


Down For The Count

by lille082



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blowjobs, Casual Sex, Everyone has some fun, First Meetings, James Bond Flirts, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Orgasm Delay/Denial, Q has two cats, Q is a HOT nerd, Q is a nerd, Q isn't Q yet, Random happenstances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lille082/pseuds/lille082
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond is grounded from missions as punishment, so he naturally needs to find other ways to amuse himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray back into writing, and so I may be a bit rusty. I have two more chapters written that I need to polish up before posting, but there shouldn't be too long of a wait for updates. This story has not been Brit picked, so if you find any inaccuracies, please let me know so I may fix them! Comments are always appreciated, as is constructive criticism!

James Bond thought he must be getting paranoid.  Or maybe this was karmic payback of some kind.  Without fail, whenever he was grounded from missions, the heavens opened and poured on the earth.  He knew he was courting the stereotype, but he couldn’t help the evidence that was presented to him.  And the rain certainly didn’t help his mood.  Grounding Bond without missions was like placing him in a locked room with nothing to do. Nothing to distract him, no target to go after, no diplomat to save from being shot.  Not even a leggy blonde to warm his bed (female or male, it didn’t matter to him).  The best he got was a backlog of reports that were, apparently, not filed ‘in excellence’, warranting him rewriting them all as punishment for blowing up the US embassy in Croatia.

He turned his coat collar up against the gale of wind as he walked away from the SIS building and towards a cafe nearby.  The canteen normally sufficed, but he needed to escape and to indulge in a good espresso, which the canteen was sorely lacking.  It wasn’t often that he was definitively stuck on British soil, but when he was, he never let up on the vigilance he maintained on his missions, rotating through restaurants, coffee shops, bars.  He knew that he could still be hunted in his territory.  There was no reason to not take necessary precautions, and the tension he felt from being so stationary was only making him more aware of his surroundings.

He opened the door to the fairly hidden cafe a few blocks away from Vauxhall Gardens, inhaling the delicate smell of fresh baked bread and undertones of coffee that met him.  What the cafe lacked in ambiance it more than made up for with the quality of their food.  His eyes swept the vicinity automatically and he carefully chose a table tucked in the back corner.  He took his damp overcoat off and draped it across the back of the chair before sitting down, fingertips tapping on the peeling linoleum table top.  He was surprised to notice that even the later lunch time didn’t prevent the cafe from being fairly busy.

A waitress moseyed over to his table to offer him a laminated menu, but he shook his head, instead ordering three eggs, scrambled, with bacon, toast, and a double cafe espresso with cream.  The waitress wrote his order down and walked away without another word.

Bond’s eyes swept the cafe once more, before allowing his shoulders to relax just a touch.  As the waitress returned with his espresso and a glass of water, the bell above the door sounded and Bond watched as a young man stepped into the cafe, carefully shaking his fringe off his face where it had been plastered to his forehead by the rain.

Bond casually took in his appearance, not minding what he saw.  The man’s lithe figure could hardly be hidden by the bulk he placed over it, and Bond’s eyes were drawn to the tight trousers that seemed to be clinging to his legs, though that may have been due to the rain outside.  His face was all sharp angles, high cheekbones, and beautifully pink lips.  Bond wondered idly if the young man had a habit of biting them.  Placed atop his aristocratic nose was a pair of glasses, ridiculously covered with raindrops, most likely impeding the man’s vision. A second passed before he removed his glasses to feebly wipe them on the jumper under his coat, without much luck in wiping them dry.

After returning the glasses to the perch on his nose, sharp eyes seemed to assess the cafe in a manner similar to the agent, and Bond stiffened slightly as his eyes briefly connected with the young man. Bond nonchalantly looked away, turning his attention to the rain pelting the window next to his seat as he picked up his espresso.  Bond tracked the man’s movements in the reflection of the window as he made his way to the back of the cafe, near where he was sitting.  

Once he got past the more crowded front area, his pace slowed some and Bond quirked an eyebrow at the reflection he was watching in the window.  Every few feet, the man seemed to be ducking down slightly, and Bond turned his head to watch him openly.  The next time the man repeated his actions, his eyes caught Bond’s again and he smiled apologetically as he straightened up.

“Does there happen to be an outlet near you?” His tone was friendly, and his accent was just this side of posh.

Bond raised his eyebrows, but swiveled in his seat to glance around the baseboards near his table.  He shook his head as he straightened,  “Looks like there’s one there.” He nodded his head to indicate the booth across the aisle from his table.

The young man smiled in thanks, close enough now that Bond could see his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners and he mentally reassessed his age; when he walked in initially, Bond thought he was a college student, but closer up, Bond could see that he was maybe in his late twenties.  And he was rather intriguingly beautiful.  Bond put on one of his more charming smiles before deliberately turned his gaze away and taking another sip of his espresso.

Bond watched out of the corner of his eye as deposited the messenger bag that had been strapped across his body onto the seat before he shrugged out of his sodden jacket, placing it on the bench across from him.  As the waitress delivered Bond’s food, he spared a glance towards the booth to see that the man had pulled a laptop out of his bag, and was hurriedly typing on it, his eyes focused intently on the screen.

Bond was peppering his eggs as he heard the man order some tea while accepting a menu from the waitress.  Bond spread marmalade on his toast and had just taken a bite when the man turned to look at him from across the aisle, menu placed on the table in front of him.

“Do you come here often?” He asked, before widening his eyes slightly and continuing on.  “A-an acquaintance suggested I come here for lunch, and I’m not sure what’s good.”

Bond didn’t stop the smirk that began to spread across his face as soon as the man tried to catch his attention.  He swallowed and nodded, taking a sip of water before answering.

“They do a decent fry up, and they do it all day.  And their steak and chips is good.”  Bond took a moment to not-so-subtly take in his appearance, smirk still in place.  He liked what he saw, even if the cardigan looked like something an 80 year old would wear.

“Excellent.  Thank you.”  The man looked like he wanted to continue, but decided against it, turning his attention back to his laptop after a moment.  When the waitress returned with his tea, Bond heard him order the steak and chips.

After a few minutes during which Bond finished off his eggs and the man typed diligently on his computer, hardly sparing a glance at his tea, Bond cleared his throat.  “I hope you won’t blame me if you end up hating the steak and chips.”

He finished typing something before turning towards Bond slightly, smiling.  “Of course not.  I’ll blame my friend who recommended this place and assume he has horrible taste.”

Bond chuckled, assessing the man’s interest before continuing the conversation.“New to the area or just got sick of the canteen?”

“New-ish to the area, but no access to a canteen.” The man smiled.  “I’ve actually just come from an interview.”

Bond hummed.  “Am I to assume that because you’re smiling it went well?”

The man nodded.  

“What is it that you do?”

He cleared his throat as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“I’m a computer engineer.  It’s such a glamorous job, you’d think that employers would be lining up, but…”  The smile he tried for ended up looking more like a grimace.  “What is it that you do?”

“International Sales,” Bond lied easily.

“Oh?  That sounds, um…like a lot of traveling.” The man finished lamely.

“It is.”  Bond wiped his fingers on the paper napkin that had been wrapped around his cutlery and extended his hand across the aisle towards the man.  “Bond.  James Bond.”

“Quincy Bentham.  Nice to meet you.”  Bond was surprised at the firm handshake he received from the smaller man.

“Likewise.  You’ve got quite a name, Quincy.”

The man, Quincy, grimaced slightly again while nodding.  “I’m just glad my parents decided to break the family tradition of passing on my father’s name.  Can you imagine growing up as Reginald Bentham the fifth?”

Bond shook his head ruefully.  “I’m glad your parents had some mercy.”

The waitress showed up that moment to set Quincy’s steak down in front of him, along with a bottle of brown sauce.  He smiled and quietly thanked her, then unrolled his cutlery before placing the napkin in his lap.

Bond was gratified to see that Quincy didn’t slather the steak with sauce, saving it instead for his chips.  He finished his last piece of bacon before looking at his watch to gauge how much time he had left before he had to head back to headquarters.  He smirked; there was plenty of time before anyone would notice he’d gone missing.

“So, did you just move to London, or have you been looking for work in this area for a while?”

Quincy briefly picked the napkin up to dab at his mouth as he swallowed the chips he was currently chewing.

“No, I lived in London for the better part of my life,” Quincy glanced at him.  “Though, I will admit to not knowing my way around this area past making it to the tube station.  I lived overseas for a few years and am getting my bearings back.”

“Oh?  Where?”  Bond smiled encouragingly.

“Berlin.  I went to visit a friend and never really left, I suppose.”

“I’ve been there a few times; it’s a nice city.” Bond nodded, and paused for a moment.  “So, did this friend end up coming back home with you?”

Quincy stared at him directly, the look on his face caught between assessing and amused.  Something about his bright eyes sizing him up made Bond all the more intrigued.

“No, no he didn’t.”  Quincy said with an air of finality.

“Ah well, his loss.”  Bond smirked as he shifted in his chair, turning his body fully towards the man and leaning in a bit.

Quincy’s eyes widened imperceptibly and Bond wanted to laugh at the slight flush that began to color his cheeks.  The tip of his tongue came out to wet his lips, and Bond found himself staring for a moment longer than he intended.

“That’s…thank you.”  Quincy openly eyed Bond’s body despite his apparent embarrassment, and Bond wasn’t ashamed to let him have his fill.

Bond smiled and a wave of want overcame him as Quincy’s eyes met his again.

“Do you-“ Bond’s proposition was abruptly cut off as his mobile began to ring.  He nearly had to hold back a groan.  He’d been maybe five minutes away from getting a date for dinner and undoubtedly company for _dessert_.  

He dug his mobile out of his pocket, shooting Quincy an apologetic look as he did so.  He answered tersely and listened briefly, before fishing one of his Universal Exports business cards from an inside suit pocket along with a pen.  He answered in vague affirmatives as he wrote down one of his personal mobile numbers on the back of the card before hanging up.  A quick glance told him that Quincy was trying to look indifferent as he picked at his chips, and Bond grinned before standing.

“Well, work calls.”  Bond stated as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

Quincy looked up at him as he fished some notes out and put them down on the table.  Bond palmed his business card discreetly as he picked up his coat off the back of his chair with his other hand.  He held his hand out to shake Quincy’s once more.

“It was a pleasure, Quincy,” Bond’s voice was low and he lingered on the word ‘pleasure’ a bit longer than polite conversation would dictate.  Quincy reached up to shake his hand, his polite smile turning into a wider one as he felt the business card pressed into his hand.

“The same to you, Mr. Bond.”

Bond nodded at him, then turned to the door, pulling his coat on as he did so.

He paused outside the door to the cafe, lighting a cigarette before walking out into the rain towards Headquarters with a smile on his face.

Maybe London could provide him with a few distractions after all.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The bar that Bond chose that night wasn’t one he picked when he wanted to watch a football game. It wasn’t the one he picked when he wanted to go home with someone, and it wasn’t the one he would frequent on very rare occasions with Eve or Tanner. It was the one he picked when he wanted to drink until his brain matter could officially classify itself as pickled, close enough that if no taxis were willing to take him, he could make it back to his apartment on foot.

Bond had just finished his fourth week of desk jockeying, and he was so frustrated he was willing to create an international crisis just so he could be sent out to fix it. Tanner had nearly pushed him over the edge when he responded to Bond's inquiry about how much longer this was going to go on by just laughing as he motioned the agent out of his office.

He knew that the pub was going to get busy, being a Friday, so Bond found himself there early in the afternoon, hoping to get drunk enough that by the time the place got crowded from hen’s parties and after-work groups he just wouldn’t give a fuck anymore. Even at three in the afternoon, Bond wasn’t able to claim his usual booth in the back corner with an eye on all exits from the room, so he settled for a barstool at the very end of the bar.

Bond threw back the first bourbon the barman served him, motioning for a refill as soon as his glass was back on the slightly sticky countertop. The barman hadn’t made it too far, and poured him another one, then shot him a look that said he was going to be watching Bond for any trouble. Bond smirked when the barman turned away. Maybe it was time to find a new dive, if he was developing a reputation at this one.

Bond was on his fourth bourbon by the time the bar began to get crowded, and he silently debated whether he should just leave and finish getting shit faced on the cheap whiskey he kept at home for occasions like this, or if he wanted to continue watching the rugby match playing out on the telly mounted behind the bar. He scanned the room nonchalantly, feeling nicely buzzed but nowhere near the numb he was aiming for. All of the tables were occupied by what appeared to be work cliques, and he was able to pick out professions just with a quick once over to the groups’ clothes and mannerisms.

He was halfway through what he had decided would be his last drink at the bar when his left arm was jostled, and he twisted quickly on his stool to take hold of the person suddenly in his space with his right hand. His reflexes had obviously not been too dulled by the alcohol he had consumed, but his mind slowly caught up as he glanced first to the thin wrist in his bruising grip to the face of a very surprised girl with purple hair. He released the girl with a gruff apology before turning back to the bar, taking notice of his now empty glass laying on its side and the liquid he was starting to feel seep into his jeans.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to glance at the girl, who appeared calm but her eyes were just a titch too wide and she was absentmindedly massaging her wrist. “Hey man, I’m sorry. Some twat ran into me and I lost my balance. Can I get you a new drink?”

Bond gave her a discreet once over as he appeared to think about it before smiling. “I was planning on that one being my last of the night…”

“Well, I was coming to buy a round of shots for my friends, at least let me buy you one?” She bit her lip, and Bond was almost tempted to try and charm her. Dressed only in black with what he was pretty sure were fishnets sticking out of her DMs, she was damn cute, but not quite his type.

He nodded in agreement and she smiled as he motioned the barman over to them. While she placed the order, he grabbed a couple of napkins from a dispenser on the bar and attempted to leech some of the alcohol from the wet denim, not wanting it to start sticking to him. She glanced down, keeping her eyes focused on his actions a beat too long.

“What’s your name?” He asked, not looking up from his dabbing.

“Dre. Yours?”

“Bond. Nice to meet you, Dre.”

The barman laid four shot glasses out on the counter and poured tequila in each one before walking away to the next customer vying for his attention.

Bond threw the wad of used napkins on the counter in front of him, then fished his wallet out from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He threw enough notes on the counter to cover his drinks and provide a generous tip, rising off the barstool to help Dre carry the four shots of tequila back to her mates. He followed her back to what he had classified as his booth, and set down the shots he was carrying on the edge of the table. She slid in next to a fairly tall, husky man with blonde curls and a graphic t-shirt in binary, leaving the bench across the table from them empty.

"Danny, this is Bond. I spilled his last drink all over him, so he is joining us!”

Bond raised an eyebrow at her apparently open invitation, and he couldn't help being amused and intrigued instead of annoyed as he would have been if he were sober. He tried to catch the girl's eye to silently question the statement, but she seemed to be smiling defiantly at her companion.

“This is Danny,” she indicated the man next to her, then turned back to the man Bond was pretty sure was her boyfriend,

“Where’d Quince go?”

“Loo,” Danny muttered, staring at Bond with a look of trepidation.

“Well, go on,” Dre said, nodding to the booth across from her. “We can’t do the shots without him.”

Bond smiled politely and slid in to the empty booth. Dre smiled at the two men, waiting for them to say something before huffing slightly and pointedly asking Bond what he did for a living.

“Sales,” he shrugged. “Nothing too exciting. What brings you lot out tonight?”

“Our friend just finished his first week at a new job, so we're celebrating.” Dre said, taking a swig from the beer bottle she had apparently been drinking before shots were mentioned. Bond glanced at the two of them, deciding quickly that Dre seemed to be the mastermind behind their socializing instead of playing video games, and Bond was willing to bet that extended to her friend in the loo. Bond nodded, starting to regret taking the girl up on her offer.

Bond heard footsteps approaching the booth before stopping just short of sliding in, and the occupants at the table looked up to find the fourth member of their party staring directly at Bond, an odd look of shock and confusion on his face. Recognition flitted across Bond’s features, and a smirk began to pull at the corners of his mouth.

Even though a few weeks had passed since their brief exchange, the man standing in front of him was just as compelling to look at as he remembered. Not quite as damp as the last time, his hair was artfully tousled upon his head, and his eyes were sharp as they stared unwaveringly at Bond.

“Quince,” Dre gestured at him to sit down next to Bond. Bond scooted over gracefully in the booth, not leaving as much space for the younger man to sit down as would be expected. “This is my new friend Bond. I spilled his bloody drink all over him, so he’s agreed to join us for a bit.”

Quincy nodded, appearing to not quite hear her as she began to distribute the shots of tequila. Bond raised his shot glass first.

“Quince, was it?” His eyes were alight with laughter, though the other man appeared to recover from his shock fairly quickly, smoothing his features with an air of nonchalance. “I hear that congratulations are in order.”

“Yeah, cheers to the new job, Quince,” Dre chimed in, smiling at Bond. They raised their glasses so they could all clink them together in the middle of the table. Dre's cry of ‘Cheers’ turned a few heads, but no one at the table noticed as they downed their shots.

Bond kept his eyes open as threw it back, hardly feeling the burn, but continuing to watch the man sitting on his left. Quincy’s slender, pale neck drew Bond’s attention as he watched the man swallow the shot, wincing slightly. He unconsciously licked his lips, and when he put his glass down on the table in front of him, he caught Dre’s eyes flitting between him and Quincy.

A smile began to grow across her face slowly, and she began to look like she knew something that no one else at the table had picked up on yet. She casually tried to strike up conversation again. "So, Quince, tell us everything about the new job.”

Quincy pushed his glasses up on his nose before taking a drink from the bottle in front of him. “Not much to tell, really. The guy before me was a berk, probably would’ve had the department using typewriters if he had his way. And half of the techs probably can’t tell you the difference between a LAN and a VPN.”

A groan rose from the two across from him followed by laughter, and Bond smiled, throughly lost.

“And that’s about it, really,” Quincy continued, shrugging.

Bond couldn't stop himself from leaning back a bit, twisting his body towards the younger man. "What exactly is it that you do?"

Quincy glanced up at him for the first time since he had sat down, and Bond was delighted to see that his face was slightly flushed. He hoped it was from being flustered as opposed to the alcohol beginning to kick in.

"I'm a computer engineer."

Dre scoffed, looking at Bond. "He's selling himself short. We all went to the same uni, in the same computing programme. But Quince is a fucking genius. While we were just focusing on leaving with a diploma, this asshole was completing three degrees. In the same amount of time." She shook her head, smiling at Quincy, who looked throughly embarrassed. Danny said nothing but took another drink of his beer.

Bond's eyebrows raised, and he nodded. "Wow, I'm...truly impressed." He casually stretched his left arm out across the back of the booth, gently grazing Quincy's shoulder. The younger man seemed to stiffen, and grabbed the beer in front of him. Dre leaned into Danny's shoulder a bit, smiling as she stared at the two across from her.

Quincy cleared his throat after finishing off the bottle of beer. “I’m ready for another round. Bond, was it?” Bond found himself pinned by Quincy's dark green eyes, his fringe shading them from the harsh light above the booth. “Care for another?”

Bond smiled. “How could I say no?”

Quincy quickly stood up from the booth, Bond following him. They wound their way to the end of the bar. Bond managed to get the barman’s attention, leaning slightly into Quincy’s side as he gestured the man over.

"Tequila, again?" Bond smirked.

"Um, no. That's entirely Dre's doing. I'm more than okay with a beer." Quincy's eyes seemed to be glued to Bond's face.  
Bond nodded as the barman approached, and he ordered two pints for them. He smiled as he turned a bit and leaned against the bar, taking in Quincy’s appearance. He was dressed in trousers that if he moved just right were a shade too tight, a collared shirt, and a blue cardigan. “Survived your first week, huh?”

Quincy blinked a couple of times. “Yes. How are…sales?”

Bond chuckled. “Sales are fine. I’m surprised you remembered…You never called.” His tone wasn’t accusatory or hurt, but observant.

Quincy’s eyes widened a fraction before unconsciously licking his lips. “I was planning on it, really I was. But I kind of…lost your card.”

Bond laughed, and Quincy relaxed by a fraction. “Well, that’s good. I was beginning to think you didn’t like me.”

Quincy smiled, glancing up at Bond through his fringe. “I’m rubbish with things that are only written down. I need an electronic record of something, or I’m helpless.”

Bond cocked an eyebrow and held his hand out. Quincy stared at it for a second.

“Your mobile, 'Quince',” Bond smirked. Quincy dug in his pocket before retrieving an Android phone that Bond had only the faintest idea how to work. Quincy unlocked it and pulled up the contacts screen before handing it to Bond. Bond made quick haste of putting his personal mobile number in, and labelling the contact with his name, fighting the urge to call his own mobile quickly so he’d have Quincy’s number too.

The barman put the two pints down in front of them, and Bond had a note in the barman’s hand faster than Quincy could pull out his wallet.

“I’ll get it next time, then,” Quincy said wryly, glancing at his mobile briefly before putting it back in his pocket.

Bond smirked and leaned forward into Quincy’s space a bit more. “Oh, there’s going to be a next time, hm?”

Quincy smiled back, grabbing their beers off the bar and handing one to Bond. “Maybe.”

Bond laughed. “I’ll drink to that.”

They both smiled, taking a sip of their beers. Bond was starting to feel fuzzy at the edges, the small dose of adrenaline from Dre tripping into him now gone, and the tequila shot starting to penetrate his system. A once over of Quincy told Bond he wasn’t quite near that point, but he was willing to guess this was his third beer of the night, so he wasn’t too far off.  
For a minute, they stood there, nursing their drinks, neither wanting to return to the booth with Quincy’s friends in it quite yet.

"So, the job interview must have gone well." Bond commented lightly.

Quincy smiled, nodding. "I had three more after that interview, but yeah, they all went well."

"Good. So, do you lot come here often? It doesn't seem like your kind of place." Bond stared at Quincy, who really needed to stop licking his lips like that or Bond was going to drag him into the gents and see what that tongue could really do.

Quincy grimaced. "It's not. Dre's had it in her mind that I'm too focused on my work, and don't get out enough. She and Danny met at uni, and I think she got it in her mind that because I didn't find myself a partner there, I'm a lost cause." He sighed. "Henceforth, I get dragged out to pubs and clubs on a far too frequent basis, with her hoping I'll run into Mr. Right."

Bond laughed and shook his head. "Believe me, bars and clubs aren't the best places to find someone for a long lasting relationship. Maybe a few good fucks, though." The words slipped out low, and Bond smiled as Quincy swallowed, his gaze heated.

A minute of silence passed between them, each watching the other man to see what would happen. Bond continued to drink his pint, eyes roaming over Quincy's body each time he looked at him. Quincy appeared to be following the rugby match, but Bond could tell he wasn't really focused on the telly.

Quincy was the first to finish his beer, and he placed the empty glass on the bar in front of him. Bond soon followed suit.

“I could really go for a cigarette right now. What about you?” Quincy’s eyes seemed to be roaming his shoulders and arms in the leather jacket Bond was wearing, and Bond nodded.

“Yeah, sounds alright to me. Want to let them know we’re stepping out?”

Quincy shook his head, and Bond turned to the back exit by the bathrooms that was always propped open.

There were a few other smokers near the door, laughing and drinking, and Bond kept walking until they were a little further away from them. Quincy smiled, leaning back against the brick wall of the alley as Bond dug in his pocket for his lighter before grabbing a carton of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. Pulling two out, he stuck them both in his mouth and lit them simultaneously, offering one to Quincy.

Bond watched as the man licked his lips, fingers brushing against Bond’s as he took hold of the cigarette. Bond could do nothing but watch as his lips closed around the filter and he took a deep breath. An almost sexual moan issued from Quincy’s mouth as he exhaled, and Bond had to restrain himself from crowding the man against the wall.

“Christ, Quincy,” Bond said, taking a deep drag on his own cigarette.

“Bond, if you knew the kind of week I’ve had, you’d understand why this nicotine is needed more than air right now. I’m lucky if I even get to make a cuppa when I’m working, let alone a cigarette.”

Bond hummed. "Maybe your new job is trying to keep you from temptation.”

Bond caught Quincy say something under his breath that sounded like ‘Keep me from temptation, my arse.’ Quincy leaned his head against the wall behind him and took another drag. Bond mirrored his position.

They smoked in silence for a while, side by side, their arms occasionally brushing. Quincy rolled his head in Bond’s direction, and Bond wasn’t embarrassed to watch the man take in his appearance.

“I quite like that jacket on you. And your jeans. It suits you, better than the suit does anyway.” Quincy said after a moment.

“I practically live in suits. What makes this different?” Bond asked, raising an eyebrow.

Quincy hummed in thought. “It’s tighter.”

Bond laughed at the smirk on Quincy’s face. “Yeah? Is that the only reason you like it better, because my arse looks good?”

“We’ll count it as a good place to start.” Quincy brought his cigarette back up to his mouth, taking one long final drag before tossing the butt to the ground. Bond did the same, eyes never leaving Quincy’s face as he did. They both unashamedly stared at the other, and Quincy unconsciously began to lean towards Bond.

Bond watched as the tip of Quincy's tongue traced his lips once more, and he couldn’t have stopped himself from closing the distance if his life depended on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm delighted over the response this has had so far, and I appreciate the kind comments! The next chapter should be posted within a week. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Quincy seemed to start in surprise, but reacted quickly, returning Bond’s kiss with fervor. He trailed his hands up the front of Bond's shirt, pulling the soft material towards him as he moaned at the feeling of Bond's stubble against his jaw when he broke the kiss. A long-fingered hand was winding itself through the short hairs at Bond's nape as he kissed the sharp line of Quincy's jaw. Bond's teeth nipped lightly at his earlobe, and Quincy's hips canted up sharply as he turned his head to draw Bond's mouth back to his. His hands found purchase on Quincy’s hips, and he pushed forward, trapping him against the wall. Quincy’s startled gasp against the forceful push allowed Bond to gain access to Quincy’s mouth, and he groaned as their tongues made contact.

His mouth was sharp, and sweet; the lingering smoke of the cigarette glazing over the beer, but the taste that was distinctly him, citrus and earthiness, came through above all else. Quincy began to respond in kind, his tongue winding it’s way into Bond’s mouth, exploring as much as he could. Their tongues began a frenzied dance around each other, neither battling for dominance as they explored thoroughly. 

Quincy pulled back, breathing heavily, and Bond seized the opportunity to bring one of his hands up to gently tilt Quincy’s head to the side as he kissed and nipped his way across the other side of his jaw and down the long column of his throat. Bond smiled as he bit harshly at a point just below the edge of Quincy's collar, marking him while making him arch up against his body, a breath practically stolen from his lungs. Bond's tongue laved over the bite mark before following it’s path back up to Quincy’s mouth.

As their lips collided again, Bond nudged Quincy’s feet apart, placing one of his powerful legs between his. Quincy bit his bottom lip rather hard, and Bond bucked into him. A smile crossed Bond’s lips as he felt the evidence of Quincy’s arousal rub against the top of his thigh, and he made an effort to grind their hips together unashamedly. They moaned in unison before Quincy pulled away quickly to hazard a glance at the back entrance to the bar.

The group of smokers had gone back inside, and Quincy returned his gaze to Bond’s with a wicked smile across his face. “Over here.”

Bond let the smaller man pull him further into the alley, past the rubbish bin and past the point where anyone who was near the bar’s back entrance would notice them for lack of lighting.

“Oh, I like how you think,” Bond growled in his ear as he pushed the man back up against the wall. His fingers began to make quick work of the buttons on the cardigan, and he pushed it roughly off Quincy's shoulders, leaving it as it settled above the man's elbows. Bond pulled the shirt out of Quincy’s trousers, encouraged as he felt hands brushing against his belt buckle. He smiled against Quincy’s mouth as cool fingers brushed against his stomach, teasing him with their lightness and maddeningly brief contact.

Bond trailed his fingers lightly along the waistband of Quincy’s trousers and was rewarded with a gasp. The hands that had been working on his belt splayed themselves out on his stomach, fingernails digging in. Bond groaned at the rough contact, but the sound was lost in Quincy’s mouth. Their tongues began a filthy slide against one another as their kiss edged past heated towards outright needy. Bond rested one hand on Quincy’s hip, his thumb dipping underneath the waistband of his trousers to stroke the soft flesh over the man’s hipbone. His other hand tangled itself into his messy curls, something he’d been itching to do since seeing the man in the pub. If he could be the reason Quincy looked unkempt instead of the weather, he'd consider tonight a success.

Bond faintly registered that his belt buckle was undone when Quincy broke the kiss, his eyes closed as he leaned into Bond’s hand. He gave the curls a sharp tug before releasing them so he could pull Quincy’s collar aside, hurriedly undoing the top buttons to give himself better access to the alabaster skin that lay beneath.

“Christ,” Quincy whispered, his hands smoothing around to Bond’s back, then over the rough denim to grasp at his arse.  
Bond chuckled throatily before biting and sucking on Quincy’s collarbone, marking him again for no reason but the sheer satisfaction of feeling the skin swell slightly under his tongue. Quincy pulled his hips forward, grinding them against his own as he met Bond’s gaze.

Bond took in the sight in front of him. His hair no longer semi-styled but mussed, lips red, breathing heavily; Quincy looked _wrecked_. Bond could feel Quincy’s arousal pressing insistently into the top of his thigh, and he had no doubt that Quincy could feel his. Bond leaned forward, licking his way back into Quincy’s mouth as his hands made their way towards Quincy’s belt buckle.

Quincy groaned deeply as one of Bond’s hands brushed lightly over the bulge in the fabric, but his entire body went still as the sound of glass clinking and plastic rustling made it’s way towards them. Bond froze as well, but cast a swift glance towards the exit of the pub and the bar back who was taking the rubbish out. Bond watched him as he hefted the bag into the bin before heading back into the pub. Once he was sure they were alone, he turned back to Quincy with a smile.

Quincy moved quickly, one hand pulling Bond’s zipper down as the other undid the button on his jeans, his mouth moving to Bond’s in a bruising kiss. A rush of arousal coursed through Bond at the younger man’s urgency, and he pressed himself into the hands so very near where he wanted them to touch.  
Quincy smiled, breaking the kiss so he could coax his fingertips into Bond’s jeans before he kissed his way back to Bond’s ear. Bond grunted and bucked into Quincy’s hands as he bit his earlobe then gently took it into his mouth to suck on it.

“You, Mr. Bond, are trouble.” Quincy’s breath ghosted over the shell of Bond’s ear, and he shivered in the middle of hurriedly undoing the button on Quincy’s trousers.

Bond took the opportunity to kiss Quincy’s neck before responding. “Oh, really?”

Quincy pulled back slightly to stare at him, eyes darting to his lips. Bond smirked as he undid the zipper of his trousers agonizingly slow, smirking as Quincy's eyes grew wider the further he pulled it down.

“Trust me, I don’t end up in an alley with a stiffy for strangers. Or anyone ever, come to think of it,” he gasped and unconsciously bucked his hips as Bond’s hand lightly skimmed over the nest of dark curls peeking out from the open 'v' of Quincy's trousers.

“Good,” Bond growled as he moved to reclaim his mouth. Quincy’s eyes closed as he returned the kiss, quickly unzipping Bond’s jeans before thrusting his hand boldly down the front of them.

Bond groaned loudly into Quincy’s mouth at the contrast between the feel of soft skin against his hot and heavy cock. Mere milliseconds passed before he had a hand down the man’s trousers and was enthralled by the full body shudder that passed through the younger man. Bond pulled his mouth away from their kiss and looked down as he released Quincy’s cock from the confines of his trousers.

Bond smirked as he felt Quincy mirror his actions and he stepped even more into Quincy’s body. The were flush against each other from chest to thigh, leaving only enough room for their hands to slide between their bodies. Bond leaned in again, breathing becoming more labored under the ministration’s of Quincy’s hand. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” He received a look of incredulousness before Quincy began kissing him again in earnest.

Bond's hand stilled on Quincy’s cock, and the responding whimper he heard made him take pity. He quickly and crudely spit into his palm before returning his attention to the beautiful prick in front of him. Quincy’s head fell back against the wall, unbidden, and his eyes closed at the feel of Bond's hand slipping easily over his hot flesh. 

Bond kissed down Quincy’s neck to his collarbone, happily laving it with attention again. His hand began to stroke at a practiced pace that would easily get the man near the precipice of his orgasm without pushing him over the edge.

Bond's cock was suddenly bereft of the soft skin touching it before he realized that Quincy was copying his actions. He moaned at the new sensation of Quincy's spit-slicked hand, and a shiver crawled down his spine before settling in his stomach as he realized that the other man was matching his pace precisely, stroke for stroke. As Bond slowed his hand experimentally, so did the hand on his cock.

Bond hungrily pushed his lips against Quincy's, reveling at the idea of being both in control and completely at Quincy's will at the same time. Their kiss soon became distracted, neither wanting to pull away though their attention was focused on a point much lower. Quincy gasped as he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against Bond's.

“B-Bond,” Quincy was breathless, eyes still closed as he tried to get the other man’s attention. Bond hummed in response, sparing a glance between their bodies before his hum turned into a moan and he had to look away before the visual became too much. He felt like a fucking teenager, ready to shoot off over the smallest stimuli.

“I…Oh,” Q whimpered. “I’m already-“

Bond nodded, his free hand loosening its hold on Quincy’s hip to tangle in his hair, pulling his head down for another kiss as he increased the pace. Quincy’s hips began to thrust his prick up into his fist and Bond was past the point of caring that he wasn't going to draw this out as Quincy's hand stuttered over his cock.

Bond’s hand tightened in Quincy’s hair, and he felt the shudder as it began to run through Quincy’s body, before he went taught and still against Bond. Bond pushed his face into the crook of Quincy’s neck, the slick feeling of his release making him ache with want as he tried to catch as much as he could. After a few moments of Bond greedily mouthing against his neck, Quincy seemed to come back down to reality. He began to stroke Bond at a relentless pace as his other hand slipped down to gently run itself over his bollocks. 

Bond drew in a few ragged breaths, teetering on the edge even as Quincy claimed his mouth and bit down on his lip again, this time hard enough to break the skin. Though he knew he was close, the orgasm took Bond by surprise, and he spent himself into the hand around the head of his cock with a grunt as he thrusted greedily for a few long moments. He sighed, shivering through an aftershock of pleasure as his forehead fell to rest on Quincy’s shoulder.

A minute passed in silence with them standing there against each other, regaining their breath and floating back to reality. Bond lifted his head and pressed his lips to the younger man’s in a gentle kiss, which Quincy seemed to relax into with a slight smile. As they shifted apart, Quincy winced a little at the mess that was covering their softening cocks and hands.

“My back right pocket,” Bond said softly. Quincy gave him a look of confusion before he slid the cleaner of his two hands around to Bond's pocket, surprised to find a carefully folded handkerchief in his fingertips.

“Jesus, you must really be old. Who carries a handkerchief around anymore?” His tone implied disbelief, but the smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he began to clean them up betrayed him.

“Well, I’m not the one who still has spots. I probably should’ve asked to make sure you were of age before this.” He stared into Quincy’s eyes seriously. “You are, aren’t you? I don’t have to worry about your mum calling the police on me, right?”

Quincy rolled his eyes but leaned forward to press a kiss to Bond’s lips. Bond nipped lightly on his lower lip as he pulled back, relieving Quincy of the handkerchief so he could get a few spots that he had missed before folding it and gingerly placing it in his back pocket. Quincy just shook his head at him as he tucked himself back into his pants and zipped his trousers up.

Quincy gently tucked Bond back into his jeans, apparently intent on making sure that Bond's belt was properly buckled. Bond followed his lead and took an immense amount of satisfaction over how disheveled Quincy looked even as he did his best to make the younger man look presentable. He was rebuttoning Quincy’s cardigan when they both looked up at a pointed cough.

Their heads whipped towards the source of the sound, and saw a mischievously smiling Dre standing just past the rubbish bin, squinting to look at them in the shadows.

“I do hope I’m not interrupting anything,” her voice floated towards them sickly sweet, and Quincy groaned. Bond was just grateful she didn’t attempt to come closer to get a better look. 

“We were just wondering if you got lost, Quince, but I can see you’re in, um...good hands.” She was desperately holding in a laugh, if the smile on her face was any indication, and she turned, heading back inside the pub.

Bond snorted at that, and the moment Quincy’s eyes met his, he couldn’t stop the laughter that came out of his mouth. Quincy’s cheeks were colored with embarrassment, but he conceded to the humor of the situation, joining in.

Once they had regained their composure, they smiled at each other in silence before Quincy cleared his throat, smile fading slowly.

He stared at Bond intently. “You're going to be a terrible influence on me, I know it.”

Confusion played across Bond's face as he turned quickly, but his smirk returned shortly as he admired Quincy's hips sway with every step he took back towards the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies about not getting this chapter up sooner; real life took over for a bit. This is also my first attempt back at writing smut so I agonized about editing for far too long.
> 
> Thank you so much for the kind feedback I have received. It means a great deal to me! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long break between chapters, friends. I took some time off from life, which was pretty magnificent, but I'm back at it now!

The first text arrived as Bond was unpacking the groceries he had forced himself to pick up after getting take away for the fourth night in a row. He barely spared a glance towards the mobile as he put the milk in the fridge and placed the whiskey on the counter next to an identical bottle that was nearly empty. He pulled a tumbler out of a cabinet, emptying the first bottle of whiskey into it.

The second chime piqued his curiosity enough for him to check his phone. Text messages were fairly rare for him to receive, with the exception of it being Eve's preferred method of communication. Picking his mobile up off the kitchen counter, he frowned at the alert stating he had two text messages from a number he did not recognize. Unlocking his phone, Bond smirked as he read the texts.

**18:06 - You left without saying goodbye last night. Most people would consider that rude.**  
**18:07 - I wasn’t done with you yet.**  
  
He stared at the two texts a moment longer, rereading them as he took a long sip of his drink. While the first text on its own would seem a bit passive-aggressive and jilted, the second one made his mind wander to exactly what Quincy had in mind.

Putting his drink on the counter, Bond pulled a cigarette from the carton in his jacket, lighting it once he had the window to his sitting room open. Leaning against the windowsill, he considered how to respond. He had to admit that the events of the previous night hadn’t been far from his mind the whole day, and it was rare for him to find a sexual partner that he wanted to see more than once.

Bond had come to terms long ago with the fact that he wasn’t exactly a nice guy. His line of work didn’t afford him the luxury of being one, and he normally embraced that fact. He drank too much, smoked too much, and fucked around more than anyone in their right mind would. He preferred the ease of one night stands, the lack of attachments and the release that could be achieved without the responsibilities. He’d seen the repercussions of having someone and losing them, of having his trust betrayed, and it wasn’t something he planned on repeating ever again.

But something had compelled him to give Quincy his number, even after having only talked to him for a few minutes on their first meeting, and he certainly wasn’t complaining that the man continued to have interest in him after their quick fumble in the alley.

_18:22 - You’re not most people_  
_18:23 - But you’re right, it was rude. Maybe you can think of a way I can make it up to you_

**18:26 - I can think of quite a few ways.**  
**18:26 - But perhaps dinner would be a good place to start.**

He sighed, walking away from his open window back to the drink waiting for him in the kitchen.

_18:29 - You should know I’m not the dating type_

**18:31 - Who said anything about dating?**  
**18:32 - I like Italian and Chinese food.**

Bond's shoulders unconsciously relaxed by a fraction. He picked his drink up and moved to sit on the couch in his frankly under-furnished flat.

_18:35 - As long as the company is pleasant, I suppose dinner could be arranged._

**18:37 - Well, I'll endeavor to keep you entertained.**

_18:38 - See that you do_  
_18:39 - If not, I'll find a way to keep us both entertained, but will probably get us kicked out of whatever restaurant you have in mind_

**18:40 - Promises, Mr. Bond.  
18:41 - Though, I imagine you could be quite the troublemaker if you put your mind to it.**

_18:41 - You have no idea_

Bond considered the idea of not only seeing Quincy again, but of having the man, taking him apart and putting him back together again. Lust curled deep in his body, and his mind conjured up the image of smooth, pale skin writhing beneath him as he ran his hand through a fistful of dark curls.

_18:43 - Are you free tomorrow night?_

\--------------------

Bond spared a glance at his watch as he finished the cocktail he had been nursing for the last half hour. It wasn't as if the reservation had been difficult for him to get, but Quincy was now beyond the point of being fashionably late to just plain late. He signaled the waiter to bring him another drink, and slipped his phone out of his trouser pocket. No new texts, no phone calls, nothing.

The waiter asks if he wants to order when he delivers the second cocktail, and Bond has to hold himself back from snapping at the man. He politely informed him that he would prefer to wait until his companion joined him, and the look of pity the waiter shot his way was not lost on Bond. He sighed before taking a long sip of the ice cold drink.

It wasn't until Bond was halfway through the second cocktail that he saw a mass of dark curls bouncing behind the hostess heading towards him. Quincy waved the woman off before she could recite the night's specials to him and he sat down across from Bond looking harried. Bond sent him a calculating look as Quincy shrugged out of his parka, not looking at him.

"God, I'm so sorry, I can't believe you're even still here. There was an emergency at work and it was an utter nightmare, and I hadn't realized how much time had passed until someone offered to pick up dinner, and I came as soon as I remembered. You must think I'm a complete prat and...Are you laughing at me?"

Bond shook his head, hiding his smile behind his glass as he took another sip of his drink. He leaned forward, admiring the flush that was growing over Quincy's high cheekbones.

"I don't think I've heard that many words come out of your mouth all at once. You're adorable when you're flustered."

Quincy's brow creased for a moment before he took a deep breath and relaxed a bit. "You're not angry?"

Bond shrugged. "I wouldn't have minded a text, but you're here so it worked out."

Quincy bit his lip, his eyes flicking down to Bond's mouth. "Well, I am sorry. Thank you for waiting for me."

Bond smiled across at him, taking in his appearance. He was wearing a light blue button up with a maroon knit tie that hung loosely from his neck, covered by what appeared to be a navy-

"Is that a corduroy jacket?" Bond reached across the table to grab lightly at Quincy's sleeve. The man looked self-consciously at his jacket before nodding. Bond stroked the fabric lightly before brushing his fingers against the inside of Quincy's wrist. "It's an...interesting choice."

"First you laugh at me, then you insult my wardrobe. You really know how to woo a man." Quincy smiled at him, fingertips brushing against Bond's as he pulled his arm back off the table. Bond returned his smile as the waiter approached to take Quincy's drink order. Once he had departed, neither man said anything, letting their eyes wander not only over each other but their surroundings as well.

Quincy looked sheepishly up at Bond through the fringe that was spilling over his glasses. "So..."

Bond raised an eyebrow at him. "So?"

Quincy smiled tightly, searching for something to say. "You look nice."

The corner of Bond's mouth tipped up slightly. "Nice?" He teased, his tone straddled the line between offended and amused.

Quincy's eyes narrowed and he shifted in his chair for a moment before lowering his voice slightly. "Fine. You look like sex on fucking legs."

Bond smirked as their waiter immediately cleared his throat and deposited a glass of red wine in front of Quincy. Quincy closed his eyes in mortification, a flush rising on his cheeks.

"Are you ready to order?"

They both ordered after quick glances at the menu and the waiter hurried away. Quincy cleared his throat, staring at Bond. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

Bond nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "So I've been told."

Quincy laughed and reached for his wine glass. Bond gazed over the rim of his glass at him. They drank in companionable silence for a while, until Bond cracked.

"May I ask you a question, Quincy?"

The other man nodded, licking his lips as he set his wine glass down.

"Why did you want me to take you to dinner? I made it clear that I don't date."

"Why did you agree to take me out? You don't date." Quincy smirked at him, and Bond grinned.

"Fair enough." Bond leaned forward across the table, pitching his voice low as he let his eyes trace Quincy's lips. "Truthfully?"

Quincy leaned forward, nodding.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about taking you apart again.”

A blush crept over Quincy's cheeks as he bit his lips together, fighting a smile.  "You certainly have a way with words, Bond."

"James, please."

"James." Quincy tilted his head forward in acquiescence.

"So, what's your reason?" Bond's hand crept its way across the table, grazing the back of Quincy's hand before landing on the sleeve of his jacket again.

"Truthfully?" Quincy smirked. "I can't stop thinking about your frankly gorgeous cock."

Bond's fingers faltered in their gentle caress of the soft fabric, and he very nearly groaned at the combination of hearing those words spoken in Quincy's posh tones and the images his mind was conjuring. He opened his mouth to reply, but shut it as his brain was still too occupied to come up with a response.

Quincy took a sip of his wine, evidently pleased with himself by his ability to render Bond speechless. As he opened his mouth to tease the man further, movement surrounded their table as their food arrived.

Bond requested another round of drinks, and smiled at the way Quincy began to attack his pasta. They ate in silence for a few minutes, satiating their hunger before lazily discussing nothing in particular, alcohol plying comfortable conversation from them both.

Bond had selected one of the finer Italian restaurants in the city, his taste for higher-end cuisine fitting nicely into his plan to seduce the younger man. It seemed, however, that he wouldn't have to pull out all the stops in his efforts to see Quincy in his bed. Bond attempted to sensually feed Quincy a bite of the ridiculously rich meat from his plate, but the challenging look he threw at Bond as he laved his tongue over the fork that was presented to him before he swallowed was enough to tell him Quincy knew exactly what he was playing at. Quincy managed to surprise him at many turns during dinner, even earning a genuine laugh as he very conspicuously stole another bite of Osso Buco off Bond's plate.

As their dishes were being cleared, and a final round of drinks brought to their table, Bond was pleased to see the slope of Quincy's shoulders had relaxed significantly and he was staring at Bond with a soft smile unknowingly across his face. Bond smiled back at the man as their eyes met and he felt the toe of Quincy's shoe inching a gentle caress up and down the inside of his ankle.

One of Bond's eyebrows raised, and a thrill of pleasure shot through him as Quincy tilted his head to the side, silently answering his question. Bond lifted his drink to his lips, gaze catching on the tendon along the side of Quincy's neck, barely visible beneath his collar, wanting nothing more than to bite down on it, marking the man as his. Quincy leaned forward challengingly, exposing more of his throat as he did, as though he knew exactly what was running through Bond's mind. Resting his forearms on the table between them, his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips before he swallowed a large portion of the wine left in his glass. Bond smirked, throwing the rest of his drink back in retaliation.

He handed the waiter one of his credit cards without acknowledging the man or the bill he was attempting to place on their table, instead watching as Quincy slowly finished off his glass of wine. As the waiter hurried back to their table, returning Bond's credit card and thanking them perfunctorily, Quincy's hand landed gently on his knee, sending a jolt of electricity through Bond's body that finally settled deep in his stomach. He quickly signed for the charge, tipping generously as the wandering hand inched its way up his inner thigh.

Bond's hand darted out, seizing the bony wrist before Quincy's hand could reach any place that would have been too scandalous, and he squeezed gently. The sharp intake of breath turned him on almost as much as the wandering hand had. Bond lifted their hands out from underneath the table, and he turned Quincy's hand over, scraping his teeth across the pulse point before gently kissing the inside of his wrist. Quincy's lips parted and he took a deep breath.

"I hate to admit it, but I've had a lovely time this evening." Bond murmured into his palm before loosening his grip so Quincy could pull away.

Quincy laughed. "Well, I'm glad that my conversational skills were entertainment enough for you to not have resorted to drastic measures."

Bond grinned and stood, holding his hand out to Quincy. The younger man accepted the hand and Bond pulled him up with more force than necessary, causing him to land on unsteady feet and into Bond's arms. He held him close for a moment, growling into his ear before he could pull away, "I think those drastic measures are best suited for a more private setting, don't you?"

A soft sigh ghosted across Bond's ear before the response came. "Quite, Mr. Bond. Perhaps you'd like to discuss this theory over a nightcap at mine?"

Bond pulled back from the man, trailing a kiss along his jaw as he did so. He grabbed the parka off the back of the chair and draped it over his arm before placing his hand on the small of Quincy's back.

"I like the way you think, darling," he murmured as he steered them out of the restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to comment with any feedback! Thanks


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I just realized it's been a while since I updated, as focused as I've been with finishing this story. So, here's the (hopefully) eagerly anticipated next chapter. Enjoy!

Quincy quietly and effectively directed Bond through the London streets towards his flat. Bond found himself admiring the man's succinct orders, and noted with some amusement that the brownstone they pulled up to was but a few blocks from his own. He eased the Aston Martin to a stop near the front of the building and parked it, turning the car off before looking at Quincy.  
  
Quincy licked his lips, his gaze dropping to Bond's mouth before he cleared his throat. "Come up, yeah?"

Bond nodded, the huskiness of Quincy's tone doing far more to him than it should.

They moved at the same time, doors opening and trying not to look too eager as they walked up to the stoop. Quincy dug in the pocket of his parka for a moment before producing a set of keys.

Bond pressed his front lightly to the man's back as he paused to unlock the door, and he smiled as the key did not quite make it into the lock on the first time.

"I'll warn you now, I've only just moved in and it's a fucking mess," Quincy said softly as he opened the door for the both of them.

Bond nodded as he moved into the landing just behind the man, and when Quincy locked the door behind them and threw his keys on the short table just inside the door, Bond pressed him up against the wall.

Quincy groaned as he hungrily claimed his mouth, their lips moving roughly in tandem. Bond slipped his hands under Quincy's parka and his jacket to grip his hips tightly, grinding them against his as delved his tongue into his hot mouth. Quincy's hands ran up and down his chest, the silken fabric doing nothing to block out the warmth he left in his wake. He curled one hand up into Bond's hair while the other continued to rove over the hard muscles of his torso.

Bond loosened his grip on his hips to push the parka off narrow shoulders, and ran his hands briefly over the fabric of Quincy's jacket before pushing the garment off too. He dipped his head to kiss down Quincy's neck, pausing to lave his tongue over the man's pulse point. Quincy's fingernails raked through the short strands of Bond's hair, and he pulled his head back up to lick into Bond's mouth.

A groan came from deep in Bond's throat and he pushed their hips together again as Quincy claimed his mouth, grinding against the growing hardness he felt there. Quincy pulled back to gasp in a breath at the contact, and Bond was in the process of shifting their bodies towards the stairs leading up to the flat when he nearly tripped over something small and very much alive. The loud yowl that echoed through the foyer a millisecond later made them both freeze, and Bond watched a brown streak fly up the stairs and out of sight.

Bond's muscles were still taught as Quincy smiled sheepishly at him. "Did I mention I have two cats?"

Bond took a deep breath, forcing his body to relax before he shook his head. "Anyone else lurking around that I should know about before heading upstairs?"

Quincy leveled a serious look at him. "Only my boyfriend Bruce, but I promise, he just likes to watch."

A loud laugh was pulled from Bond's mouth, and he smiled at the pleased grin he received from Quincy.

"You're fucking cheeky, you know that?" Bond pushed the smaller man towards the stairs, and Quincy smiled over his shoulder as he toed his shoes off before starting up. Bond stepped out of his dress shoes and tried not to be too obvious in his appraisal of Quincy's arse as he followed him up, but the knowing look he received at the top of the stairs told him that he was more than aware of the ogling.

Bond took in the sparsely furnished flat with some amusement. A lone brown leather couch sat in the middle of the main room surrounded by boxes and brown packing paper. More boxes littered the countertops of the kitchen, and it appeared that Quincy had so far only deemed his tea kettle and mugs important enough to unpack.

"I told you it was a mess," Quincy said as he stooped down to pull a small mass of fur out from the kitchen chair it was hiding under. "I suppose you've already met Alan."

Bond moved closer to them and held out his hand for the cat to sniff before petting the small animal in Quincy's arms. Yellow eyes met his in trepidation before closing in pleasure.

Bond glanced around. "And the other one?"

Quincy shook his head, bending down to place the kitten back on the floor. "I'd be surprised if you see her. Ada will only grace those she deems worthy with her presence, the little princess."

Bond hummed, watching as the man went through the motions of feeding his cats and making sure they had fresh water. Once he had finished, he leaned against the kitchen counter and gave Bond a very obvious once over, and Bond almost felt the heat of his gaze as it traveled back up his body. Here, in his own space, the man seemed so much more relaxed. He seemed looser, his movements more fluid. Bond wondered if he'd bring that pliancy to the bedroom, too.

He took careful, deliberate steps towards Quincy, eyes locked on his as he did so. His gaze was near predatory, but Quincy didn't waver or back down. When their bodies were but a few breaths apart, Bond pressed in close.

His hands settled onto the man's slender hips as he leaned in, his tongue tracing lightly over Quincy's bottom lip. The lingering sweetness the wine had painted on his lips was now eclipsed by his own spicy earthiness, and he felt the tip of Quincy's tongue brush against his. His hands tightened on Quincy's hips, lifting him effortlessly up onto the countertop as he hungrily licked into his mouth.

Quincy smiled into the kiss, automatically spreading his legs so Bond could step in closer to his body. His fingers slid slowly up Bond's arms and over his muscular shoulders before cupping his face, tilting Bond's head back so he could have more control over the kiss. Bond growled deep in his throat as Quincy bit his lower lip hard enough that he was almost certain he'd drawn blood. Quincy hummed into his mouth, hooking his legs around Bond's hips to draw him in even closer.

They groaned in unison as their bodies pressed together where they both were craving the contact. One of Bond's hands flattened itself against Quincy's flank before he moved it slowly upwards, finally tangling it in the messy curls like he'd wanted to since watching him brush it off his forehead earlier in the evening. He pulled gently on the strands at the back of his head and Quincy whimpered. Bond felt himself get harder from the sound alone.

Quincy began to push Bond's suit jacket off his shoulders, and Bond shrugged out of it, his hands leaving Quincy's body for only a moment. They continued their fevered exploration of each other's mouths even as their hands worked hurriedly to remove ties and unbutton shirt buttons. Bond proved to be faster, throwing Quincy's tie to the side before pushing his shirt off his shoulders. He broke the kiss, the need to taste his skin coursing through his veins.

Bond licked down Quincy's neck, pausing to mark him at the apex of the gentle curve between his neck and shoulder. He spent his time laving down past his collarbone before his mouth landed on one peaked nipple. Bond took it gently between his teeth before sucking on it greedily. Quincy moaned from above him, his hands faltering where he was still attempting to undo the buttons on Bond's shirt, quite unsuccessfully. Bond trailed his lips over to the other nipple, gently removing Quincy's hands from his shirt to place them on the countertop beside his own hips, silently encouraging the man to lean back and let him explore.

He slid his hands down Quincy's thighs and back up, smiling at the flutter of muscles beneath his hands as he trailed his fingers across the skin of Quincy's stomach. Bond quickly undid the man's belt and flies, his mouth following the path his fingers had blazed moments before. Bond slipped a hand inside of Quincy's pants, pulling him out while stroking him slowly.  
The moan that issued from Quincy's mouth quickly turned into a whine as Bond wrapped his lips around the head of his cock and sucked. One hand scrambling to hold himself up, the other threading long fingers through Bond's hair, Quincy was as beautiful as Bond had imagined he would be in this moment and more.

Bond licked down Quincy's shaft, admiring it for the first time up close. He was certainly thinner than Bond, but longer, and Bond couldn't help but think that the man's prick was perfect as he closed his mouth around it and took as much in as he could before pulling back slowly. Quincy's hand tightened, his fingernails digging into his scalp, and Bond paused in his agonizing rhythm to look up at the man, his cock still in his mouth.

Green eyes burned into ice blue, and the need he saw on the younger man's face hit him hard, ratcheting his desire up even more. He pulled off his cock, licking his lips as he manhandled Quincy's legs around his waist and he lifted him up from the counter. Quincy claimed his mouth again, licking inside and moaning as he realized the saltiness he found there was his own taste.

"Bedroom?" Bond breathed in between kisses, and Quincy nodded to the hallway off the kitchen.

Bond carried him effortlessly down the hallway to the open door at the very end. He was pleased to see that Quincy had already taken the time to unpack most of his bedroom so he didn't have to maneuver around a maze of boxes. Quincy whipped Bond's tie off from around his neck, and smiled victoriously as he got the top buttons of his shirt undone. Before he had the opportunity to latch himself to the now-bared throat, he was gently thrown onto the bed. Bond crawled over him, bracing his weight on either side of Quincy's head.

Quincy licked his lips as he stared up at him, and reached his hands between them to undo the rest of the buttons on Bond's shirt. Once undone, the shirt revealed the broad expanse of Bond's chest and the taught muscles playing underneath his skin. Quincy gazed hungrily over his torso, hands exploring, and Bond was grateful when no questions came about the map of scars painting his body.

Slender fingers began to undo his belt, and Bond leaned back to sit as Quincy pushed himself up at the same time. Their mouths met and Bond felt the smooth slide of leather, Quincy pulling the belt from his trousers. He felt those same fingers steadily open the flies of his suit pants, and quest in further only to feel Quincy pull away.

"No pants? Now who's being cheeky?" Quincy teased as he worked to ease the trousers over Bond's hips.

"Can't have them ruining the lines of the suit." Bond shot back before he got up off the bed, pushing the trousers down and letting them fall to the floor. He allowed Quincy to look his fill, and he tracked the bright green eyes as they roamed over his muscular legs. Bond wondered if Quincy realized that he licked his lips as soon as his gaze settled on his cock.

He stepped out of his clothing, and kneeled on the edge of the bed, his hands grabbing hold of the hem of Quincy's trousers, pulling them further down off his legs until he was finally able to toss them on the floor. Bond gazed hungrily over the lithe figure spread out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows as his cock jutted out from the confines of his black boxer briefs.

"You look fucking delicious," Bond growled as he crawled slowly over Quincy's body, hands gripping the waistband of his pants. He leaned down, tongue licking a teasing line up his cock, before pulling the pants down. He smiled up at Quincy as he felt the man struggling to kick his pants off while grabbing at his shoulders to pull him up at the same time.

Bond relented, moving up Quincy's body so he could kiss him. Quincy's hands roamed over his bare shoulders, down his back, along his flank, and across his chest. His hands painted a trail of searing heat across Bond's body, finally settling on his hips, gripping him tightly.

Bond moaned as Quincy pulled their hips close, cocks rubbing together with delicious friction. His hand trailed down the man's stomach to nestle in the dark curls at the base of his cock. Quincy groaned into the kiss, shifting his hips in an attempt to get Bond to touch him.

Bond smiled, fingers gently combing through the hair, ardently avoiding Quincy's prick. He instead shifted his attention down to his balls, resting them in his palm before giving them a gentle roll between his fingers. Quincy's hands migrated to the prick curving towards him, cupping his balls in one hand while beginning to pump Bond's cock at a punishing pace.

"Fuck," Bond cried out, his hand stilling in its quest to explore the delicate skin of Quincy's inner thighs. Quincy nipped at his lip as he swung a leg over Bond's hip and threw his weight to the side, rolling them suddenly to trap Bond underneath him.  
He stared cheekily down at Bond, hand back on his prick, which he began stroking much slower. Bond's hands moved to his small, pert arse, kneading it for a moment, before spreading Quincy's cheeks wide. Bond smirked as he felt the hand on his cock still for a moment.

"What do you want, Quincy?" His voice was soft, but the hunger hidden behind his words made the young man shiver.  
Quincy bit his lip, still languidly jerking Bond off. He hummed, then shifted back towards Bond's feet. He leaned forward, his lips hovering just above the tip of Bond’s cock.

"Everything." Bond felt the word more than he heard it, a soft exhale along the head of his cock.

A dark pink tongue darted out to taste the salty fluid already beading at the tip of Bond's prick. Bond nearly saw stars as Quincy's warm mouth engulfed his shaft, taking it almost all the way down to the root.

"Fuck. Jesus...fucking Christ," Bond grunted out as Quincy pulled back with a practically-inhuman amount of suction. He released Bond's cock from his mouth with a slight 'pop' and an eyebrow quirked up at him.

Bond pushed one of his hands up into Quincy's curls desperate to either guide him back to take his cock in his mouth again or to pull him into a kiss so he could taste himself on Quincy's tongue. Before he hand a chance to do either, Quincy had straightened up and was leaning across Bond to reach into the bedside table.

Bond heard the shifting of items in the drawer before seeing Quincy triumphantly pull out a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms. He placed both of the items on the bed, well within reach, then leaned down to kiss Bond with a level of intensity that had his mind reeling.

Bond tightened his grip in Quincy's hair as he returned the kiss, hips rising up off the bed so he could grind them together. Quincy placed a hand on Bond's chest and pushed himself up, reaching for the bottle of lube.

Bond watched hungrily as the man dribbled some of the fluid into his right hand, then coated his fingers. It had been a while since Bond had bottomed, and his weary gaze at Quincy's hand questing lower did not go unnoticed.  
"Okay?"

Bond nodded after a moment, and Quincy smirked. The one hand he had on Quincy's buttocks was gently batted away and he watched Quincy’s eyes darken as he reached his hand behind him.

Bond let out a groan as he realized that the fucking gorgeous man on top of him was working a finger into his own tightly-clutched arsehole. Bond moaned, lifting his hips off the bed so he could grind them against each other again, friction a delightful and agonizing torture all the same.

Quincy gasped at the contact, resting his weight on his free hand. Bond watched hungrily as the angle of Quincy’s arm changed ever so slightly each time he pumped his finger in and out. Bond quickly grabbed the bottle of lube that Quincy had abandoned, squeezing a generous amount into his hand before coating the younger man’s cock.

Quincy’s eyes closed as he moaned in appreciation, inserting a second finger into himself a moment later. Bond’s cock twitched at the thought of filling this man and he began stroking Quincy’s cock slowly, the twist he added on the upstroke causing the slim hips above him to press forward stutteringly.

Bond watched Quincy prepare himself with abandon, a flush spreading slowly down his chest. Bond’s own skin began to hum, needing more; he surged up into a sitting position, wrapping Quincy’s legs around his hips as he did so. He cried out in dismay as the change in position pulled his fingers away from his hole, but Bond silenced him as he claimed his mouth.  
Quincy moaned loudly as Bond grabbed the twin globes of his arse and spread them wide. One of the calloused fingers of his right hand inched inwards to slowly circle his hole, before breaching the tight ring of muscle. Quincy pulled back, gasping in a breath as a second finger joined the first, inching in and out of his body.

"More..." He breathed, resting his forehead against Bond's as he tilted his hips back in an attempt to draw Bond's fingers in further. Bond complied happily, a third finger sliding in easily, causing his cock to pulse in envy.

Quincy breathed heavily, his head dropping onto Bond's shoulder as he reveled in the feeling of his fingers pumping slickly in him, but it wasn't enough. His hand dropped to Bond's cock and he stroked it gently before lifting his head to meet Bond's eyes.

Ice blue eyes met Quincy's fevered gaze, and the need Bond saw there made his cock twitch in Quincy's palm. He withdrew his fingers slowly, letting his index finger circle the loose hole before subtly wiping his hand on the sheets. He made quick work of tearing one of the condom wrappers open and rolling it onto his prick. Quincy coated his condom-covered erection with a generous amount of lube, stroking it roughly as he did so.

Quincy's grip on Bond's cock tightened as he shifted himself in his lap, licking his lips as he raised up and positioned himself above Bond's cock. Bond's hands fell to Quincy's thin hips, tightening his grip as the head of his cock became engulfed in tight, all-consuming heat.

Quincy's head fell back, his eyes closed as he sank further onto Bond's thick prick, and Bond took the opportunity to follow a lone bead of sweat down the long column of pale neck offered to him. Bond groaned as the lithe body above him bottomed out and stilled as it adjusted to his size. His searching lips found a prominent collarbone and he bit down harshly, causing Quincy's hips to buck under his hands.

A whine issued from Quincy's lips at the shifting of Bond's cock within him, and his hips began to undulate in small circles. Bond mouthed his way back up Quincy's neck, removing one hand from his hip so he could tip the man's head forewords, reclaiming his mouth. A bite to Quincy's lower lip had the man gasping, opening his mouth to Bond's tongue.  
Bond's hand returned to the slim hips and he sucked harshly on Quincy's tongue as he lifted the light body up, then loosened his grip so he slid back down. Quincy moaned loudly, his hands settling themselves on Bond's shoulders and he braced himself as he began riding the thick cock.

Bond's tongue dominated Quincy's mouth, while the younger man began to steadily speed up his pace. Their breaths combined hot and heavy between them, sweat beading on Quincy's forehead, plastering his wayward curls down.  
Bond shifted his hands down to cup Quincy's arse once more before grasping the back of his thighs, lifting the man even further and faster off his cock as he thrusted up into him. Quincy's mouth went slack at the action, his prick leaking onto Bond's stomach as they moved together.

"James..." Quincy breathed out in between gasping breaths, and he growled at the sound of posh accent breaking over the sound of his name. In one fluid movement, James flipped them on the bed, seating himself deep in Quincy as he did so.

"Oh god, James," he moaned, wrapping his legs around the muscular torso that hovered over him.

James bracketed Quincy's body with his hands, leaning down to recapture the red, swollen lips, pounding into him with a need that was overwhelming. Quincy's body arched up against him, the new angle dragging the head of James's cock across his prostate with every thrust.

James knew that the man was close, the legs wrapped around him trembling and the look of utter ecstasy gracing the delicate features pulling James even closer to his own release. Quincy's hands tightened in the sheets beneath him, eyes closed, pleas falling from his lips. James moved his hand to Quincy's cock, swiping his thumb across the tip to spread the moisture he found there, then began stroking in time to his thrusts.

After a few quick moments, Quincy cried out as his orgasm tore through him, his mind whited out as the jolt of pleasure wracked his body. James groaned as the heat around his cock clamped down on him, and he followed Quincy over the precipice moments later. A shout was ripped from his chest at the intensity of his orgasm, and his hips pushed forwards as he rode the waves of pleasure.

The crackling sexual energy surrounding the two bodies slowed as they stilled, gasping in breaths as they attempted to even their heart rates out. He pulled his softening prick from Quincy's body, and both of them groaned at the loss of contact.  
Bond shifted his weight off to the side, and rolled off the mattress silently to dispose of the condom and grab a wet flannel from the en suite. Bond smiled as Quincy propped himself up on an elbow, allowing Bond to wipe his skin down. Once he was finished, Bond dropped the flannel off the side of the bed and settled down next to him. Quincy's lips met his in a chaste press as his fingers trailed gently over Bond's warm skin.

A smile crossed Bond's features as he noticed the spectacles Quincy had refused to take off had slipped down the bridge of his aristocratic nose. He gently pushed them back up to their perch.

Quincy swallowed heavily. "Jesus Christ...that was, um..."

Bond chuckled, pressing his lips to Quincy's again. "It was, wasn't it?"

Quincy began giggling hysterically in response and flopped onto his back, covering his face when he didn't stop. Bond propped himself up on his elbow, smiling as he watched the man until he calmed down.

Quincy peeked out from under his hands, his cheeks flushed from his laughing. As he caught his breath, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just...I don't do this."

"Do what?"

"This," Quincy motioned between them and the bed. "Any of it. The...flirting, the alley-way sex, and mind-blowing shags after overpriced food."

Bond gave him an appraising look. "Hmm, you seem to be doing it pretty damn well, if you ask me."

Quincy snorted. "Flatterer."

"Well, you did say 'mind-blowing _shags_ ', so..." Bond was ready to defend himself from the pillow that was quickly aimed at his head.

"Believe me, Mr. Bond, after that display, I'm a sure thing." Quincy smirked at him. "Think you can get it up again anytime soon, old man?"

Bond's eyes narrowed playfully. "I should put you over my fucking knee."

"Oh, don't make promises you don't intend to keep...". Quincy's voice was full of wistful longing, and Bond had to hold himself back from making it a reality right then.

"All in good time, love. How about that nightcap first?"

Quincy smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Bond's mouth. He crawled out of bed and stretched, unashamedly naked, as he headed to the kitchen, and Bond smiled to himself as he watched the figure retreat from the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well...there you have it, our boys finally falling in bed together. Please keep your eyes peeled as I am inching closer to being done writing this fic every day.
> 
> As always, there is nothing that compares to the excitement that courses through me when I see a notification email in my inbox, and your kind words are always appreciated! Thanks <3


	6. Chapter 6

Bond woke suddenly, quietly, his body freezing as it took him a moment to remember where he was. Weak tendrils of dawn crept in through the window, and a glance at the bedside table told him the time was just past five in the morning. He categorized the warmth of a body curled next to him, realizing that while he had been waiting for Quincy to fall asleep so he could leave, he must have fallen asleep too.

He frowned. It was highly unusual for him to allow himself to become so unguarded as to fall asleep in a stranger's bed. Bond registered the cause of his sudden consciousness being the lithe form of a white cat slowly padding its way up the duvet towards him, and he shut his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, the cat was pawing at the covers, attempting to slip underneath them, no doubt in order to curl up next to her owner. Bond glanced at the younger man, who slept on without his breathing pattern ever having changed. In repose, his face appeared even more youthful, and Bond morosely struggled to recall when he last looked in a mirror and an unlined face stared back at him.

Quincy slept on his stomach, the smallest of smiles upon his lips, with his arm slung over Bond's midsection and his feet tangled in his. Gentle curls framed Quincy's face, while the rest of his hair stuck out at every possible angle. Bond smiled as the cat began kneading her human's shoulder in an attempt to get him to budge up and let her cuddle him. Bond shifted out from under Quincy's arm as best he could, and lifted the duvet up so the cat could take his place. She did so without a second glance towards him.

He slipped out of bed slowly, taking great care to not disturb Quincy. The cat began purring loudly, basking in the warmth of his body heat that still clung to the sheets. Bond padded through the room to the en suite silently, picking up the pieces of his clothing that had been discarded on the floor in their haste last night. He shut the bathroom door behind him as quietly as possible, and perfunctorily dressed after relieving his bladder. He scrubbed his hands over his face as he splashed it with water from the tap, and cast a glance at himself in the mirror.

His eyes were just bloodshot enough for the few extra drinks he had the night before to be apparent. He felt as though every wrinkle on his face, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes, the laugh lines, were all more pronounced than they had been the day before. Bond shook his head, wondering if he really was getting old when being with a younger partner had him questioning his own vitality rather than marveling in his virility to still pull a young, pretty thing. He swished a bit of mouthwash around in his mouth, and spit it out in the sink, effectively ending that line of thought.

Bond turned the doorknob silently, and crept across the room without casting a glance towards the bed. He slipped through the open door from which a band of sunlight was feebly painting the carpet. The small brown kitten whose name he recalled as Alan wound around his ankles, mewling at the sight of him. He shushed the animal quietly as he crept down the short hallway, only to stop at the sight awaiting him.

Quincy, apparently oblivious to his completely naked state, filled the electric kettle perfunctorily, obviously going through the motions of his morning routine. The bloom of fresh bruises on his slim hips and the dark love bite at the base of his neck painted a clear picture of exactly what they had been up to. Thrice, Bond recalled smugly. He licked his lips at the sight, and quietly crossed the distance between them.

He gently placed his hands on Quincy's hips and stepped in to press against his back. Quincy hummed, tilting his head back onto Bond's shoulder, allowing him access to the expanse of neck revealed. Bond pressed kisses lightly from the edge of his shoulder up to the sensitive skin behind the edge of his jaw. The moment his teeth caught Quincy's ear lobe between them and he sucked it into his mouth, the slim man seemed to melt into his arms, his limbs becoming loose and pliant.

One of Quincy's hands reached back to grab a handful of suit-covered buttocks, while the other was placed gently against the side of Bond's face as he turned his head so their lips could meet. Bond tightened his grip on Quincy's hips as the man's tongue slipped into his mouth while he simultaneously arched his back. Bond couldn't help pushing his hips forward to rub against the plush arse.

Quincy turned lithely in his arms, pressing their bodies together as completely as possible. He pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to Bond's lips before pulling back, fingers running along the silk tie that hung untied around his neck.

"Mmm, morning." Quincy's fingers deftly unbuttoned a few buttons so he could mouth at the skin that was revealed. "You're wearing so many clothes. Making a run for it?"

Bond chuckled, sliding his hands back to grab the man's arse in his hands as he slotted their growing erections together. "Yes, but I couldn't seem to get myself out the door. I got distracted."

"Oh?" Quincy asked, feigning ignorance. "By what, exactly?"

Bond kissed and nipped back along Quincy's jaw, taking his earlobe in his mouth to suckle lightly. One of his hands slid slowly from its place on Quincy's buttocks to grasp his burgeoning erection and give it a long, languid stroke.

Quincy's ridiculously red lips parted as he drew in a quick breath of air, his eyes falling shut. Bond kissed back up along Quincy's jaw before he recaptured his lips. His hands moved up to tangle in Quincy's already untamed hair, and he smiled into the kiss as he felt the rest of the buttons on his shirt being rapidly undone.

Quincy's tongue teased its way across Bond's bottom lip before gaining entrance to his mouth. Bond reveled in the sensual feel of their tongues caressing each other slowly as they spent time mapping the other's mouth out. Bond moaned as Quincy pulled back from the kiss, sucking his tongue as he did so. The kettle began to boil, and clicked off.

Quincy's hands slowly, reverently roamed over his chest as the lithe man pulled back, looking his fill.

"You're built like a fucking centurion," he mused, his fingertips tracing the line of muscle that continued under James's trousers.

Bond snorted, amused but also taking the opportunity to stare more openly at Quincy. They had enjoyed each other's bodies eagerly last night, but if he could, he would spend the rest of the day tracing a path to each and every freckle on the man's body with his tongue. He told him as much and was pleased to see a pink flush creep into his cheeks.

"While I'm more than happy to oblige you," Quincy leveled a sly look at Bond as he pushed him back against the kitchen island before dropping to his knees, "I feel as though we have other...erm...pressing matters to attend to." The word was punctuated with a grope of Bond's cock through his trousers.

Bond groaned, mostly because the line was unbearable but also because, through the manhandling of his prick, he felt himself get even harder.

Quincy leaned forward and nuzzled the outline of Bond's cock through his straining trousers, mouthing at the fabric until the cloth was dark with moisture. He pulled back to look up at James, his lips dark and hair mussed as he quickly undid Bond's flies and shoved his trousers down over his hips.

Bond threaded his fingers through the tangled mess of curls that perched atop Quincy's head, and he smiled as the man arched into his touch like a bloody cat. He stroked his hand through his hair a few times as Quincy steadied his heavy prick in his hands.

Last night he had merely teased, but Quincy let himself explore with early morning languidness. The tip of his tongue flitted briefly over the slit of Bond's cock, lapping up the drops of pre-come gathered there. His tongue began swirling slowly over the head of Bond's prick, until he took it in his mouth and sucked lightly. Quincy pulled off his cock with a gentle kiss to the tip before licking a broad stripe from the root to the head.

A growl transformed to a moan, and James cupped Quincy's cheek with his other hand, brushing a finger over his cheekbone. Quincy slowly sucked down the length of Bond's shaft, staring up at him as he did so until his nose was practically buried in his pubic hair. James had to shut his eyes after a moment, looking at Quincy being almost too much.

He pulled off Bond's cock with his cheeks hollowed, and began bobbing his head at a pace that was near perfection, in Bond's opinion. Every so often, Quincy would pause after taking Bond's cock as far as he could and would swallow, then breathe shallowly before resuming his motion. James found it maddening.

When Bond's thighs started to tremble, he pulled on Quincy's hair, a warning. Quincy moaned at the sensation, and Bond's head fell back as he felt the vibration of the sound down to the root of his shaft. Quincy swallowed once more, his throat spasming tightly around James, who quickly fell over the edge. A low groan accompanied the pulses of come that Quincy efficiently swallowed down, and he continued sucking James through his orgasm. 

He pulled off, lips shining and wet, smiling wolfishly up at Bond.

"Up," James commanded. "Now."

Quincy complied slowly, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

James held Quincy's face between his hands, kissing him deeply and reveling in the salty, musk-like taste he found on his tongue. Quincy's hands found their way to his arse, and James smiled as his buttocks were gently massaged.

"Has anyone told you your mouth was made for sucking cock?" James murmured lowly between kisses.

Quincy laughed, pulling back. "You'd be the first, actually."

"It's a compliment, trust me. " Bond smirked, sliding his hands slowly down Quincy's back to rest on his arse as he pushed one of his thighs between Quincy's. He inched his fingers towards the young man's crack, and Quincy moaned as he felt himself being spread open, exposed.

Quincy pulled Bond's head forward, claiming his lips in a deep kiss as James's finger began to slowly circle his hole. Bond licked greedily into his mouth, pressing the tip of his index finger against the puckered flesh of Quincy's entrance. James moved his other hand forward and began lazily jerking off the hard cock that was rutting insistently against his thigh.

Quincy moaned, breaking their kiss to catch his breath as he reveled in the dual sensations. He was still a touch loose from their actions the night previous, and as he pressed back against Bond's hand for more, his finger breached him. Quincy's hips jerked forward, the stretch pleasantly painful, and his cock fucked Bond's fist. A whine escaped him and he attacked James's lips with rigor.

The shrill ringing of a mobile sounded from the bedroom. They pulled their mouths away from each other's reluctantly, and a look of consternation crossed Quincy's face. Bond's stroking slowed as he quirked an eyebrow at the man currently rutting against him, and almost laughed as Quincy vehemently shook his head and pushed back against his hand to make his point.

By the time Quincy was trembling in Bond's arms, the mobile rang for a second time. Quincy's head dropped forward in frustration, and James bit at his neck to distract him, sucking harshly on the spot. Quincy's hips stuttered and Bond quickened his pace, tightening his grip on Quincy's cock ever so slightly.

A few short pulls on his prick, and Quincy came with a keening cry, painting their stomachs with his come. James let him catch his breath for a moment before he gently reclaimed the plush lips. Quincy hummed happily into his mouth, then rested his head on James's shoulder.

Bond had pulled a dish towel out of an open box nearby and was cleaning them both off when the mobile began to ring once more.

"Bloody fuck," Quincy growled, surprising Bond with the edge in his voice. Bond's cock twitched.

Quincy reluctantly moved away, and Bond padded after him silently back into the bedroom. The young man ended up on his hands and knees as he attempted to grab the mobile from where it must have fallen underneath the bed, and James was privy to a view that he was quickly committing to memory. Bond casually leaned against the door jam, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched.

The mobile began ringing for a fourth time before Quincy triumphantly pulled it out from under the bed along with no fewer than five cat toys. He quickly thumbed across the phone's display to answer the call.

"Yes?" His tone was cold, perfunctory, annoyed, and Bond grinned at how chagrined the man was to have been interrupted in his post-coitus state.

His grin quickly faded as he watched the man listen to the person at the other end. 

The annoyance that was projected in the purse of his lips and the furrow of the brow shifted quickly to confusion. After a moment in which Bond registered Quincy's eyes widening fractionally, those plush lips set in a hard line and his jade eyes narrowed. Quincy swallowed, and his face became unreadable.

"No...No, you don't.......Of course...Yes, thank you. One moment, please." His eyes flitted to Bond's for the briefest of glances before he straightened up. His spine was ramrod straight as he lowered the phone from his ear, and walked towards him.

"It's for you, 007," he intoned flatly, staring over James's shoulder as he held the mobile out to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh...
> 
> \-----  
> Forgive me for the abhorrent amount of time it took to get this chapter posted. I can promise there will not be such a long gap before the next one is up!
> 
> Please leave a comment to let me know what you think so far, as every time I get a new one my heart does a little tap dance. <3


	7. Chapter 7

There were few times in his life where James Bond could say he was well and truly blindsided, and this was one of them. His brow furrowed as he searched Quincy's face, but the man continued to avoid his gaze. He reached out, cautiously plucking the MI6 standard-issue mobile from his long, delicate fingers and brought it up to his ear.

"Yes," he said automatically. Quincy stared at him, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. James watched as he turned, his posture absurdly stiff, and crossed the room in a few short strides to the en suite.

"Bond," Eve Moneypenny's voice was clear, yet bemused. "Where are you?"

"Chelsea. You?" The click of the lock on the door seemed louder than it should have. He heard the shower turn on, and Bond crossed to sit on the edge of the unmade bed, pulling the plush comforter into his lap.

"Six. What's...erm, why is Q there?"

"What?" His eyes met those of the white cat who glared blearily at him as his movement woke her.

"You--," Eve started, cutting herself off before plunging into a tangent. "Jesus Christ, Bond, he's only been Quartermaster for a week, how can you be fucking him already?"

Bond was silent, a response not forthcoming as he tried to process her words.

"Bond?"

"Eve, what do you want?" He kept his tone neutral, noncommittal, but his patience was wearing thin as the only thing his mind could focus on was the dark haired man on the other side of the door.

She sighed as though resigned, but Bond knew he hadn't heard the end of this. Not by far. "Something's come up. You're flying to Bucharest this afternoon. You have a briefing with M at 1300."

"Fine." He hung up without another word, and set the phone down next to him on the bed. He scrubbed his calloused hands across his face and sighed, resting his elbows on his knees.

Quartermaster. Of course he had to be his fucking Quartermaster. Boothroyd's impending retirement had been talked about for months, but since he hadn't heard anything on the subject of a replacement, he figured it was just R or some unknown higher up from TSS. Not a kid wonder who apparently couldn't be trusted to pick out an outfit for himself.

On the bed next to him, the cat yawned, then stood and stretched. The corner of a mobile poked out from underneath her next to the pillow that still had an indent from Quincy's head.

Bond picked it up, pressing a button to wake the screen. He wasn't surprised to see that Quincy had missed calls from not just Eve but also M herself, and had 8 new messages waiting for him. Of course, he had the foresight to actually put his mobile on silent. Bond had apparently forgotten his was even in his pocket, realizing that it must have fallen under the bed when he stripped his trousers off the night before.

A wave of anger gripped Bond suddenly, and his jaw clenched. This kid, _his Quartermaster_ , had been fucking with him from the moment he had seen him again at that bar. Of course he had, that much was obvious from how quickly his demeanor changed as soon as he was ousted by the phone call from Eve.

The water stopped running and Bond set the second mobile on the bedside table, debating his next course of action. A few minutes passed with nothing but the occasional rustling coming from inside the en suite, and Bond made up his mind to do what he did best when he got into sticky situations. 

He got the fuck out of there.

\----------

Bond arrived at Six ahead of his briefing, dressed impeccably and freshly shaved. That he place a latte on Eve Moneypenny's desk five minutes before his scheduled meeting with M had her even more unnerved than him being, of all things, early.

"What the hell is going on with you?" She looked up from the paper cup now sitting in front of her to the agent sitting on the corner of her desk.

"What, I can't bring my best girl a coffee out of the goodness of my heart?" He gave her one of the most charming smiles he could pull out of his bag of tricks.

She leveled him with a stare, punctuating her words with the letter opener in her hand. "You call me your best girl again and you'll wake up to find your bollocks turned into live grenades overnight."

"Fair enough," Bond held his hands up in surrender. "I figured if you were calling people in at six this morning, you were probably going to be in need of coffee right about now."

Eve sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. "It's been a nightmare of a day, so...thank you." She brought the coffee up to her lips and took a tentative sip before giving him an assessing look. "You're trying to distract me."

Bond parried her words with a look of innocent confusion.

Eve leaned forward and hissed, "What the hell were you thinking, Bond?"

"Oh no, I forgot the honey, didn't I?" A look of mock concern took over his features and he reached to take the latte back until he saw Eve's hand creeping towards her letter opener.

"This is serious. He's your Quartermaster, for Christ's sake! What are you going to tell M?"

Bond's face became guarded. "Eve, listen--"

He was cut off by a buzzing from the phone on Eve's desk. Eve shook her head, mouth pressed into a straight line. "Bond's here, ma'am," she spoke through the intercom before pressing a button hidden underneath her desk. Bond cast one last warning look at Eve, who narrowed her eyes at him over the top of the coffee cup.

He strode into M's office with a swagger he didn't quite feel at the moment. The cursory glance between him and the chair in front of her desk was all the invitation he would get, so he instead stepped over to the drinks trolley and fixed himself a scotch.

"Glad to see you're taking your return to active duty so seriously, 007."

"Oh, how rude of me. Would you like a drink?" He questioned with a half-smile on his face, gesturing to the tumbler in his hand.

"Sit."

Bond obliged and reclined in the chair, smelling the liquid before taking a sip. M glanced over him carefully.

"I shouldn't have to say it, but this is a very sensitive situation, and I need you in full working order. Is that going to be a problem?"

Bond shifted in his chair. "No, ma'am."

M sighed and pushed a folder across her desk to him. He opened it on his lap and gave the files a cursory once over. After six weeks of infiltrating his way into a militant anti-unification group in Moldova, 004 had disappeared, and it did not seem he had done so willingly. The last two reports he had managed to make sounded as though he was getting close to being able to name who their mole was inside the Romanian government, and that there was documentation to prove it.

M pursed her lips. "I had no choice but to put you on this assignment as 006 is still in deep cover in Puerto Rico, and you have the most knowledge of the language aside from him. It is my expectation that you retrieve both the intelligence and 004 without incurring an international incident. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Bond threw back the rest of the scotch, setting the glass on the corner of M's desk.

"Very well. I asked the new Quartermaster to oversee your outfitting today, so do go easy on him. Though given both your propensities for explosions, I have a feeling you two are going to get on quite well." M cast a sour look towards him, and Bond had the fleeting inclination to gift her a bottle of paracetamol as he could practically see her tension headache forming before him. She turned to her computer and began typing without a second glance to him.

Bond stood and buttoned his suit jacket. "Thanks for the drink."

Her frown communicated how unamused she was despite not even bothering to look at him as she dismissed him. "  _Mult noroc, Bond_."

Once the door shut behind him, Eve stood up from her desk and approached him, her arms full of thick file folders. She quirked one perfectly groomed eyebrow at him.

"Heading down to Q Branch, 007? I'll join you, I have some things I need to drop off for Q anyway," she proclaimed loudly.

Bond shook his head as she fell in step with him. "Remind me again how you were ever a field agent with that subtlety?"

Eve angrily jammed a finger into the call button for the lift, and they stood in silence until the doors opened with a ping. Once they were alone, she rounded on him with an angry glare.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Bond stared at her, and put his hands in his trouser pockets as he said nothing.

Eve sighed. "Bond, random field agents are one thing, but he's a department head, for fuck's sake. The repercussions of this could be--"

"Eve, what does it matter? Why do you care so bloody much?" Bond's exasperation was turning to anger.

"Are you kidding me? Think about what would happen if this got out, Bond. I know you have a reputation, so there'd be no surprise there, but for Q. He's the youngest Quartermaster MI6 has ever seen, but...Sleeping with his field agents? And not just any field agent, but a Double-Oh who seduced him inside a week? If he was that easily--"

"Enough," Bond growled. "I see your point, Eve, I do. But that's not...you need to drop it."

She stared at him with her mouth slightly agape as the lift opened to reveal the large room that housed Q Branch. Bond strolled out with a neutral look on his face as he took the space.

He had not made the trip down to this portion of the building since he needed to be outfitted for his last mission weeks ago. The monitors lining one wall and the computer banks in front of them were recently installed, and Bond was not surprised to see R currently directing a mission like she was born doing it, the keyboard in front of her acting like an extension of her arms.

Eve recovered quickly, the sharp staccato of her heels echoing even in the bustling room. He followed her, fixing an idle expression across his face as she maneuvered around workstations and desks. An alcove at the back of the room housed a door that was slightly open, and she knocked briefly before entering. Bond leaned against the door jamb and crossed his arms over his chest.

The room was small and cramped with a combined total of two workstations and two desks whose tops were covered in half-built prototypes and computer monitors, respectively. At one of the workstations, a slight figure was hunched over, soldering what appeared to be a wristwatch. Even with his face obscured by magnifying goggles, Bond recognized the curve of his nape and the wild hair.

Q put the soldering iron back on its mount and removed the goggles as Eve walked towards him.

"Good morning, Miss Moneypenny. To what do I owe the pleasure?" His tone was warm and he gave her a polite smile, rising from the stool he had been perched on.

"The budget proposals, counters, actuals, and quarterly reports for the last four years." Eve dropped the files on his main desk with a loud thwack. Bond didn't miss the grimace that crossed Q's face for a moment before he noticed his presence.

"Ah, I see you brought a guest. How wonderful..." Q's tone had chilled considerably, the man turning away from Bond to flip through the top file as he reached out for a mug of tea.

Eve frowned, and her eyes flicked between the two of them. After a moment of tense silence, she piped up. "Well, I'll leave you to it, then. Give me a ring if you need anything, Q."

"Thank you, Miss Moneypenny." He glanced up and gave her a thin smile, returning to his workstation where the wristwatch was waiting for him. He picked the soldering iron up once more and returned to his work.

Eve's heels echoed loudly across the floor, and her gaze narrowed as she reached Bond. He merely quirked an eyebrow at her in a dismissive gesture. After she slipped out of the room, he quietly shut the door and turned to look at Quincy.

No, not Quincy-- _Q_ , Bond's mind supplied, paid him no heed as he idly took a few more steps into the room, taking in every minute detail of the space as he did so.  
His eyes returned to his Quartermaster, and he glanced over him quickly. He had dressed in quite the same manner as he had the previous night, but had a blue cardigan on instead of a corduroy jacket, and an indentation on his forehead from where the magnifying goggles had rested moments before.

Bond watched as the man finished the micro inspection of the device, and polished it to a gleaming finish. He stood up without a second glance in Bond's direction, walking over to his other workstation.

"007, I understand you have a difficult mission ahead of you, so it would be in your best interest to listen carefully and not interrupt," he said, an edge in his tone that Bond had never heard before.

Bond moved to join him at the workstation, standing close enough to the man that their arms brushed as Q extracted some equipment from a black box that was on the table, attempting to gauge his reaction. Q explained the items even as he made a point to step away from Bond.

"Walther PPK, coded to your palm print. It will only fire when the lights on the grip are green, meaning it has confirmed that you have been authorized to use it. Please do not use that as an excuse to let it fall into the wrong hands." He handed the weapon to Bond, watching as the lights on the grip behaved accordingly when the agent wrapped his hand around it.

"I've taken the liberty of updating the earpieces, and we are now able to maintain contact with you at all times, which means that you are expected to have it on at all times." Q frowned. "I familiarized myself with your mission records this morning, 007, and found a disturbing track record of going dark unauthorized. Know that this will not be tolerated."

Bond smirked wryly, reaching out to put the clear earpiece into his ear. "Trying to keep tabs on me?"

"Save it, Agent." Q snapped.

So, that's how it was. Bond wiped the smirk from his face, schooling his features into the neutral mask that fell in place so easily even as a new wave of anger rushed over him. This version of Quincy, _Q_ , whomever he was, was cold and unfamiliar, and Bond despised the feeling of having had someone get the better of him. The majority of people he encountered who could say they had were dead, and most at his own hands.

Q's nimble fingers glanced over the wristwatch for a moment before holding it out between them. Bond observed as he twisted the face of the watch carefully counterclockwise, and the crown jutted out just a bit further from the side of the watch. Q pulled on the crown, which slid easily from the rest of the watch and revealed itself to be a rather compact USB drive. Not quite what Omega had in mind when they initially designed it, Bond imagined.

"You are expected to retrieve the data from their servers and wipe it's existence as cleanly and as quietly as possible." Q paused, a wry smile on his lips. "As I have no faith in this being a skill you currently possess, I have created a program that will do the job for you as long as you are plugged into a computer on their network. That should be easy enough for you to handle, I imagine." He righted the watch to its original state.

Bond frowned, biting back the urge to remind the man that he wasn't wet behind the ears. He instead removed the watch he was currently wearing, slipping the Omega on. He replicated the man's movements with ease. Q gave him a satisfactory nod, then handed him an envelope.

"Your travel documents."

Bond reached his hand forward to grasp at the envelope, fingers brushing Q's as he did so. He could practically see the individual vertebrae aligning themselves as the man stiffened against his touch. Q pulled his hand away quickly, and moved efficiently to his desk.

Once seated in front of his computer, his fingers began flying rapidly over his keyboard without him having to spare a single glance at them. Bond tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his suit, stepping over to stand in front of the desk.

"I'm sending a document to your mobile with the intelligence 004 had reported back before his disappearance, as well as what the recon team has been able to determine about where he currently is. Once you are in place, one of the handlers will be on call to guide you as necessary. Any questions?"

Bond stared stonily at the man who was resolutely not looking at him. Through the blue-white glare of the monitor reflected in his glasses, he did not miss the uncertain flicker of Q's eyes to his face before they snapped back to his work.

"Very well. Have a safe flight, 007. Do return the equipment in good working order."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this chapter was a tough one...I promise that all of this is going to go somewhere real soon.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and for all of the amazing feedback I've been getting! Every notification I get about a kudos or a new comment brings a smile to my face. Like this: :D :D :D
> 
> Oh yeah, I also have a tumblr, if you would like to follow me: lille082.tumblr.com
> 
> <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, I'm sorry it has been forever since I last posted. 'Real life' reared its ugly head, but I'm back now. And hey, I got a new job that I'm in love with! It gives me more time to write, so I expect to update much more frequently.

The trail left behind by 004's captors was so easy to follow it was laughable. With the events of the previous days, Bond had been hoping to have to break at least a few fingers to gather the information needed to track down where they were holding the agent. He needed a release for the frustration and anger simmering beneath his skin, but the first member of the militant anti-unification group he came across gave the others up without much of a fight.

The kid looked no older than 16 and frightened beyond words when Bond had found him guarding the hovel 004 had been staying in with other members. Not only had the boy told Bond where to find them, but he now knew far more about the Noii Moldovenisti (as they had named themselves) and their operation in Romania than he needed to take them down and destroy their contact in the Romanian government. Bond divested the boy of his weapon and car keys and told him to get out of town in case the rest of the group tried to find him. The kid ran away from him as though death was on his heels.

Bond drove the borrowed car to the edge of a field outside of Giurgiulești, about 2 kilometers from the warehouse the boy had shown him on a map. As he approached the building on foot, it gratified him to see that everything as it was described to him. He double checked his Walther before beginning a silent ascent over the chain-link fence surrounding the compound. The faint moonlight that reached through the clouds was the only light to guide him to the oft unguarded door in the back that the kid told him would be his best chance of getting in.

He crept on silent feet through the dark hallways, sticking to the shadows as best he could. He made his way to the lowest level, intuition and experience telling him how to best find 004. And he was not wrong.

The first guard he came across received the butt of Bond's Walther to the back of his head before Bond trussed him up and relieved him of his gun. The next two he came across were not so easy. It was clear they were guarding a room, but as Bond shot one of them in the back of the head, the second jumped up and away to retaliate, his front splattered with his companion's blood. The firefight that followed was short, but Bond swore as the sounds of shouting reached him from somewhere inside the warehouse. He shouldered the door open, squinting in the darkness to catch a glimpse of a crouched figure chained to the floor.

"Greg," he crept towards the figure, and the man nodded. In what little light he had, Bond could barely recognize the younger agent beneath the beard, grime, and blood that covered his face. "Can you walk?"

004 nodded, and Bond aimed steadfastly at one of the links in the chain that bound his hands together. With his hands freed and mobility returned, the agent struggled to his feet as he removed the gag from his mouth. Bond held out the gun he had taken from the first guard and lifted an eyebrow.

The agent countered with a small smile as he grabbed the gun and checked to make sure the weapon was loaded. 

"There were five men who brought me here, but I know more have arrived since." His voice was hoarse from non-use, and he nodded at Bond when he was ready.

Bond stepped into the door frame, eyes sweeping up and down the hallway. After determining it was clear, he ran back the way he came, 004 on his heels, their footfalls silent. The heavy sounds of running echoed from a nearby hallway, but they continued forward. They made it through two more hallways within the maze of the basement, but the shouts became louder from behind them and the agents both understood that their pursuers had found the two door guards. Bond peered around the next corner and they moved forward.

The crack of the first gunshot had Bond ducking, unsure of exactly where their assailant was until he turned to look at 004. The agent finished rounding the corner but pressed his left hand to his side. Bond could see the cloth of his shirt darkening beneath his fingers. Bond quickly moved in front of him, looking back down the hallway they just cleared.

He jerked back from the corner as three bullets flew past him. He swore under his breath and gave his companion an assessing look. 004 was already panting from the effort of trying to keep up with Bond, and now rivulets of fresh blood were beginning to seep from the wound in his side. Bond cursorily fired a few rounds back at their attackers. Resigned as new bullets flew past their hold in the deserted hallway, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and fished out his earpiece.

"We need another way out." He growled after he slipped it back into his ear.  
"007? Report," the technician's voice was attempting to be commanding, but Bond could sense the waver of hesitation from the man. To be fair, Bond couldn't help it if the TSS lackey needed his incompetence shoved down his throat to understand that he couldn't order the agent around.

"I just gave you my bloody report." Bond fired off another few shots.

"Yes, um...okay, where are you-"

"Stop fucking around and put Q on. Now!" Bond quickly undid his tie and handed it over to 004 without looking. The man wadded it up and pressed it against the seeping wound.

"You've got six gunmen barring your best exit and four back the way you came, but I can get you out another way. Status report on 004?" The crisp, efficient tone of his new Quartermaster was both a balm for his growing unease and kindling for a flare of anger and, god help him, arousal that Bond couldn't ignore.

His response was just as efficient. "Hit, but mobile. We'll need a medevac as soon as we're clear."

"I've already alerted them and they're on standby. The stairwell on your right appears to be clear for at least two floors. You've done a hell of a job attracting every single person in earshot to this party."

"What can I say?" Bond fired off two more bullets down the hall before nodding his head towards the stairwell. "I love a good party."

"Of course you do," Q's resigned voice could just be heard over the sound of his typing.

004 shouldered the door open and Bond followed, covering their retreat until the heavy door shut behind them.

"Well, up you go. One flight up and 10 meters to your left should be a service entrance."

"Should be?" Bond growled, checking the amount of rounds he had left.

"Yes, well, according to the original blueprints of the building. I don't have visuals on the entrance itself, but from what I can see, your way should be clear. And it looks as if your friends from down the hall have gotten curious about the lack of bullets coming their way."

Bond looked at 004, and the man nodded back at him. The two bolted up the stairs, and Bond emerged from the stairwell with his gun held high, sweeping the area for potential threats.

"Clear," Bond said, quiet enough that Q had to strain to hear it over the coms. 004 latched the door behind them with a quiet snick and startled slightly when the door locked of its own accord.

"I'm placing as much of the building on lockdown as I can," Q's voice was quiet in his ear, somewhat distracted but calm and collected. "That should buy you some time to get out of there."

Bond began to move silently forward, 004 on his heels. They reached the service door for a dock, and Bond pushed the large green button mounted to the wall.

Nothing happened.

He sighed, hitting the button again this time repeatedly and with increasingly violent intensity. "Say, Quartermaster...The door won't open. You didn't happen to put this floor under lockdown too, did you?"

He received a derisive snort in response.

"Well, the door won't open."

"Of course it will, put your back into it."

"Why don't you come down here and put your back into it?" Bond had resorted to grabbing the handle to manually open the door and was still met with resistance.

"Oh, shit..." Q said softly, not quite hiding the small tinge of panic in his voice as his fingers began flying over keys that Bond could hear almost as if he were standing in the room.

"Oh shit? Oh shit, what?" Bond stopped, waiting for a response.

He got his answer as the heavy door to the stairwell was banged upon, their previous pursuers struggling to get the door open.

Bond growled, rolling his eyes as he spun around to aim his gun at the potential threat, should they get through.

"Yes, well..." Q cleared his throat. "My apologies, 007. In attempting to remove any possible locks on the service door, it appears I disengaged the lockdown--"

"I can bloody well see that, Q. What now?"

"I can open the service door remotely, but it's going to unlock the stairwell door as well. I've already checked, the loading dock is clear. If you and 004 can get under the door and onto the dock fast enough, I can close it again so they can't follow you."

Bond relayed the message to 004, who crouched down near the doors' opening, ready to roll. Bond assumed the same position, steadying his Walther on his knee as he continued to aim at the men behind the door.

"In position," Bond murmured.

Q counted down softly, and he and Bond said, "Go," simultaneously.

All at once, Bond heard the scrape of the service door as it began its mechanical ride upwards, and watched as the door was strong-armed open by their pursuers. 004 rolled, and his grunt timed perfectly with the first shot ringing out from Bond's Walther before he too rolled under the rising door.

"Close it!" Bond barked once he was almost clear. The door paused for a moment at its midpoint and began its descent again. Responding fire rang out against the metal of the door, while another shot ricocheted off the concrete near Bond's foot.

A sharp, agonizing pain blossomed in the back of Bond's calf and he clenched his teeth in an attempt to quiet cry it tore from his throat.

"Bond?" Q queried, his voice tinged with alarm.

Bond spared a glance for his leg when 004 looked at him to make sure he was okay. The navy fabric of his suit was torn and dark with blood.

"You owe me a new suit," Bond growled, his jaw tight as he tested his leg and began moving forward along the side of the building. "Where to, Q?"

"Noted, 007. I've got an extraction team en route with medevac but I need you clear of the building. The lockdown is back in place, so you should not have anyone following you. I'm sending coordinates to your mobile now."

Bond grunted in acknowledgment as he felt a vibration come from in the inner pocket of his suit, and he nodded towards a large lorry parked near the service entrance. The two agents crept alongside the vehicle, and Bond limped around to the driver's side door to make sure it was empty before they got in. A quick search for keys proved fruitless, and Bond pulled the panel off the steering wheel column.

The engine gave a satisfying rumble as Bond hot-wired it, and began to drive in the direction of the extraction point.

"Really, Bond, a lorry? You'd be faster on foot."

"Shut it. We're clear," he growled as they drove right through the chain link fence barring the road away from the warehouse.

He heard Q hum in response before the ground shook and a large roar overtook them. Bond glanced back in his rear view mirror to see the remains of the building in flame.

"Is that your idea of clean and quiet, Quartermaster?"

Q sighed. "Have a safe flight home, agent."

Bond couldn't help the smirk as he watched the plumes of smoke billowing from the wreckage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, thank you all for your patience during the hiatus between chapters. 
> 
> Your comments and kudos made me incredulously happy, and I cannot stop smiling when I get an alert about them. They completely make my day. :)


	9. Chapter 9

The soft beeping of a heart monitor woke Bond, the smell of sterility engulfing him as the bone-deep grogginess of a soporific wore off. He groaned, and made to pull the IV out of his arm before he had even opened his eyes.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Bill Tanner smiled at Bond from the end of his bed and nodded towards the open door. “M’s on her way down.”

Bond sighed heavily and flopped back against the pillows that were propping him up. A full minute of silence passed before Bond spoke. 

“How’s Greg?”

Tanner looked surprised for a moment, before nodding. “He’s doing alright. A few broken ribs and fingers, some surface injuries. But on the whole, not too bad. Luckily that gunshot was through and through, mostly muscle injured. Nearly hit a kidney, but not too much harm done there. He's going to have a hell of a recovery though.”

Bond grunted in acknowledgement just as M strolled in the door, a doctor Bond vaguely disliked at her heels.

“007. How are you feeling?” M stopped in front of his bed as she watched the doctor consult Bond’s chart while appearing not to eavesdrop.

“Great, ma’am.” He gave her a wry smile. “Never better.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it, 007." Her tone was clipped as she raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you’re feeling up to telling the Moldovan ambassador why there is now a hole where that warehouse used to be.”

Bond cleared his throat. “Sounds like a question for the Quartermaster, ma’am. We were already clear when he decided to blow the building.”

M narrowed her eyes as she clasped her hands in front of her and hummed. “Interesting. Might I suggest you two spend some time getting your stories straight?”

"Ma'am?"

"He says you left him with no choice. According to him, if there had been charges, you were the one who set them."

Bond was torn between wanting to laugh at the bastard’s nerve or wanting to give him a black eye. He settled for shaking his head and not saying anything. He was acutely aware of M’s scrutinizing gaze on him, and he grew wary as he noticed her brow furrow as she watched his response.

M sighed. “Very well, then. Take me through it.”

Bond recounted the events of the mission, from landing in Bucharest to rendezvousing with the extraction team.

“And the documents?”

Bond nodded. “On the USB. Kid practically offered to print them out and sign them, just to get out of there. Good on 004’s end, working that angle like he did. If he hadn’t started to wear him down, he wouldn’t have cracked anywhere near as fast.”

M raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be sure to put it in the report. Though I find myself loathe to say it, well done, 007. Damage to the Moldovan countryside notwithstanding, of course.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Bond nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at the side of his mouth.

M nodded at the doctor and Tanner before excusing herself from his room. The doctor cleared his throat, earning the attention of the two men still in the room.

“Well, well, you certainly got lucky, Mr. Bond.” The doctor was reviewing Bond’s chart and missed the look exchanged between Bond and Tanner, which was probably in his best interest. “The bullet grazed you, but left a fairly deep laceration. There’s been some minor tissue damage, but on the whole, you’re lucky. A bit lower and-"

“Thank god for small miracles.” Bond’s smile was saccharine. “May I go now?”

The doctor sighed, and hung Bond’s chart back on the end of the bed. “I said you were lucky, I didn’t say you were healed. With the tissue damage there is, it’s going to be best for you to stay off that leg for a few days, then start physical therapy as soon as you can put weight on it.”

"Physical therapy?" As if he would stoop to that. Bond raised his eyebrows and turned his attention to Tanner.

Tanner sighed. “Hate to say it, but he’s right, Bond. If you want full muscle extension back, it’s best to go the cautious route rather than throw you in and risk further injury.”

Bond growled, and closed his eyes. “How long?”

The doctor hummed inquisitively, and Bond enjoyed the vision his mind conjured up of garroting the poor sod.

“How long?”

“Oh, er — well, the physical therapy will be for at least a few weeks…I’d say four to six weeks, if you’re making good progress.”

Upon seeing the tic in Bond’s jaw, Tanner invited the doctor to leave and perhaps check up on his patient later. He sighed after he shut the door behind the doctor, and turned back to Bond.

“I know it’s not ideal, but-“

Bond waved him off, glaring at the offending extremity. He could feel a dull ache pulse in the wound with every heartbeat.

Bill cleared his throat. “I won’t pretend to assume you’re going to stay here overnight like they want. They had delusions of issuing you crutches and a cane before I managed to talk some sense into them.” Tanner nodded towards a lone crutch in the corner of the room, propped against a table. “I’ll have Eve swing by with the painkillers they’ll prescribe once they figure out you’ve left.”

Bond’s laugh was quiet as he pulled the IV from his arm. “I owe you a pint, Bill.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Tanner saw himself out, smiling.

Bond groaned at the stiffness in his muscles as he swung his legs off the bed, throwing the bedclothes off. He placed both feet on the ground, cautious and slow as he put weight on his bad leg. Without the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he had to admit it did hurt like a bitch but it was a paper cut compared to what he’d been through before.

He gritted his teeth as he limped to the chair next to the table. His workout kit was folded neatly on top of a clear bag filled with the clothes and items Bond had on him during the extraction. He dressed as quickly as he could, picking up the bag and rolling his eyes as he saw the silver glint of his watch tucked neatly between his jacket and ruined trousers. Of course the one part of his kit that hadn’t been returned was the one that contained the USB with the intelligence they had been looking for.

He glared at the crutch, but grabbed it anyway and familiarized himself with using it for a minute. Step followed by awkward step, like riding a fucking bicycle. Scooping up the bag, he maneuvered himself to the door, glancing both ways to make sure there wasn’t a doctor in sight. Not that any of them would really be able to stop him, leg wound or not.

He quietly made his way down the hallway to an elevator towards the back of the Medical ward. No use being caught trying to sneak out the front door. He got there without drawing too much attention, though he thought he’d been made when a nurse he’d never seen before looked between him and his empty room a couple of times.

He clamored into the empty lift and began his slow descent to the lower levels of MI6. Sighing, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the elevator as he considered his newest…coworker? Superior? Clusterfuck of great proportions? During the mission it had been easy to segregate his thoughts, putting any consideration for Quincy to the side so he could focus on getting his fellow agent out of some deep shit. But now that he was back, with nothing but time on his hands…

He began to slow, and Bond opened his eyes just as the doors opened with a ding. He limped out of the lift and turned the corner — right into Q.

The floppy-haired boffin gasped as he attempted to hold onto his tablet and the stack of folders in his arms, knocking Bond’s crutch out from beneath him. It clattered to the floor loudly and Bond automatically made to steady himself with the nearest object. Which happened to be Q. 

His hand grasped firmly on a boney shoulder, and their momentum was stopped by Q’s back hitting the wall behind him, a grunt escaping his lips. Bond clenched his jaw as pain spiked through his leg when he put weight on it to stop himself from tripping into Q any further.

“James…” Q’s eyes widened a bit, his voice breathy.

Bond stared at the flush creeping up the man’s neck as the moment seemed to stretch between them. The distinct notes of sandalwood and bergamot filled his nose and he closed his eyes as scent memory came rushing back to him.

The ding of the lift doors closing seemed to call them both back to the present, and Bond shifted as far back as he could, looking anywhere but Q as he did so. Without hesitation, the younger man slipped himself out from under Bond’s hand and crouched down to pick the crutch up. Bond lifted the weight off his leg and maneuvered himself against the wall without Q’s help

He handed the crutch back to Bond, holding it firmly in place as Bond moved to grab it back and readjust its position. As Q withdrew his hand he brushed Bond’s lower back, leaving a scorching trail before he straightened his cardigan and took a step back. Bond frowned though he remained silent.

Q cleared his throat. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Medical?”

Bond nodded slowly.

Q sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he glanced down at his tablet, recollecting himself. His cheeks were still flushed, but his mouth was beginning to twist into a moue of annoyance as he looked back up at James. “I had really hoped that the rumors weren’t true when it came to your disregard for your wellbeing, but I guess you really do try to live up to your reputation here, don’t you?”

James’s eyes narrowed, returning Q’s stare with one of equal iciness. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Q snorted, shaking his head before his expression shifted into an unreadable mask. “Why are you down here, 007?”

Bond held up the bag he had managed to hang on to during their slight scuffle. “Figured you’d want your watch back.”

Q raised an eyebrow. “Of course. Follow me, please.”

The young man twisted on his heel and walked briskly down the brief stretch of hallway that led to Q-Branch, not adjusting his stride to accommodate Bond’s slightly slower pace. The doors of the branch automatically opened for him, and Bond followed him back to his office, letting the door latch shut behind him.

Q gestured half-heartedly at one of the work stations as he maneuvered around to his main desk where he deposited the tablet and folders. Bond didn’t fail to notice the grimace that crossed the man’s face as he took a quick sip from a mug of tea long-gone cold. He tossed the bag of his personal artifacts onto the metal surface of the workstation, the bloodied suit inside muffling the clang of metal on metal.

“Medevac saw fit to return your earpiece and Walther to me, so you needn't worry about that. Not that you would worry anyway.” Q seemed to be talking to the space between them, not even sparing a look for Bond as he grabbed one of the laptops off his desk and met him at the workstation. “I trust you had no issues with the program.”

Bond shook his head, and pulled the Omega out of the bag. He held the modified watch out to Q. The Quartermaster plucked it from his hands carefully, avoiding the blood smeared across the face and along a portion of the links.

“Yours or somebody else’s?” Q asked, his tone distracted as he pulled the crown from the watch, and slid the USB drive into one of his laptop’s ports.

“Probably mine. Could be Greg’s.” Bond kept his tone short, watching the Quartermaster’s lithe fingers played across the keyboard.

Q hummed. “And how is Gregor doing? I haven’t had a moment to check in on him.”

“He’ll live.” Bond’s eyes narrowed and he rested his hip against the workstation, loosening his grip on the crutch. “Why is M under the impression that I blew up that warehouse?”

Q’s brow furrowed and he stopped typing to look at Bond. “Excuse me?”

“According to her, you said I as good as blew that warehouse up. I’m fairly certain I had nothing to do with it. The building was contained, we could have just as easily sent in a cleanup crew.”

A grin tugged at the corner of Q’s mouth, and he pressed his lips together in an attempt to quash it. 

“You’re half right, 007.” He straightened and crossed his arms across his chest. “Yes, the building was in lockdown, and we certainly could have sent a crew in…But at some point during your daring escape, a bullet hit the gas line. The idiots started shooting at the door in an attempt to get it open, and from the ricocheting bullets I had a feeling it wasn’t going to end well.”

Bond’s eyes searched his face but nodded eventually. “So you ordered us clear…just in case?”

“Just in case. Though, I never actually told M you blew that warehouse up…" Q allowed the smile to grow, catching Bond’s eye. "But, then again, I never said you didn’t.”

The laugh that was pulled from Bond’s chest apparently startled them both, and Q gave in to a small chuckle before turning his attention back to the laptop.

His eyes scanned the screen, and from Bond’s vantage point there was no way the man could be taking the information in that fast. A few minutes passed, with only the sound of Q’s keystrokes filling the space between them, but the air felt lighter.

After a while Q nodded, typing for a moment before looking back up at Bond. “This looks good. It all seems to be in order. I’ll have a few of my analysts dig further, but…Good job, 007.”

Bond raised an eyebrow. “Good job?”

Q sighed. “Yes, Bond. I believe that’s what one calls a compliment.”

Without thinking, Bond smirked and leaned forward towards Q. “I can think of a few other ways to compliment me.”

Bond wasn’t prepared for Q’s fist hitting the workstation with enough force to cause a metallic clang to echo through the large stone room, and he took a cautious step back. Q took a deep breath and held it for a second, before releasing it slowly through his nose. He straightened, clearing his throat as he did so, looking Bond straight in the eye.

“007, I was hoping that your behavior wouldn’t force me to say anything, but I-“

Bond had the decency to move away further, but his eyes narrowed as Q cleared his throat.

“I will say this only once, 007. Whatever you were playing at before, with…” He vaguely gestured between the two of them, and Bond pursed his lips. “I will not tolerate any allusions to what you consider your conquest over me. Not in my presence, not in my branch. Is that clear?”

“My conquest?” James practically growled, attempting to unclench his hands from the fists they were forming.

Q glared as he stepped further away from Bond. “Don’t—How stupid do you think I am, Bond? I’m not deaf to the talk about my age or experience, and certainly not from…seasoned agents like yourself. But you’re a fucking piece of work to try to make an example of that. I’m sure you’ve been having a big bloody laugh at my expense, but it does not change the fact that I am still the head of this department, dammit.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Bond stared at Q, whose face was beginning to flush as his lips pressed together in anger.

“For god’s sake —You fucking played me, Bond! You knew who I was — or, could be — the minute you laid eyes on me, and you decided to…what, just fuck around a bit? Have some fun?” Q was livid, the dam restraining his thoughts and feelings on the matter having finally broken. His normally posh tones began to take on a rougher edge as he lost further control. Behind his thick-rimmed glasses, his eyes were alight with anger, and he slammed his palms down on the shop table with less force this time. “And then what? Were you planning on spreading it around, a bit of juicy gossip to discredit me? Or maybe it was blackmail material, yeah? Hold it over my head so I’d…what? Look the other way when you repeatedly go off protocol? Give you all the new weapons?”

As his incensed words rushed over Bond, he tried to take in the accusations being thrown at him, but was so caught off-guard that he didn’t know what to respond to first. But, despite the ire directed at him, he couldn’t stop staring at the man in front of him. His eyes wild, cheeks flushed, and plush lips spiting venom at him faster than he could register had Bond half-hard. The knot of anger that had made its home in Bond’s stomach lessened slightly as he took in what Q was saying.

"You think..." James huffed, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in disbelief. "You think I played you?”

Q paused for a moment, breathing heavily. His cheeks were flushed with his anger, and James watched the flex of the tendons in his forearm as he clenched and unclenched his fist. When he responded, his voice was tight and strained. 

"Don't do that, Bond. You can't -- I'm not some stupid mark you can just charm and expect me to forget what you did or—

Bond shifted forward. "Quincy-"

"You don't get to call me that!"

Bond paused before taking a step forward. "What if I told you that I didn't know who you were until Eve had to spell it out to me?" His voice was quiet, soothing.

Q scoffed before arching an eyebrow over the top of his glasses. "I'd call bullshit."

Bond smirked and held his hands open to concede the point. "And if I've spent the last week fuming because I thought you knew who I was when we fucked?”

"That I knew--" Q's voice was indignant, and he crossed his arms angrily back over his chest, narrowing his eyes. “How the hell would I know who you are?”

James shrugged. “You’d just started, but I have a bit of a reputation."

Q snorted, but James could see the subtle shift as his shoulders released a fraction of the tension he was holding.

"So you..."

"Just thought you were really fit? Yeah." Bond leaned his hip against the workshop table.

Q opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. "In your little scenario, what possible motivation might I have had in..." One long-fingered hand gestures helplessly between them. 

Bond smirked, leaning in a bit. "You wanted to see if the rumors were true?”

Q took a step to the side, placing some distance between them in response, but James continued undeterred.

”Or, maybe you wanted to put me in my place, yeah? Assert some authority, gain the upper hand?"

Q snorted, and James smiled, know exactly where the man's mind went. Q made a show of rolling his eyes, but James felt desire build as he watched deliciously plump lips curve into a smile, a pink tongue darting out to wet them.

A minute of silence passed between them, both assimilating the new information and allowing the knowledge to settle.

When Q finally looked at Bond again, his eyes widened at the fire burning in the glacier eyes that were threatening to swallow him completely.

James quickly reached for him, pulling his thin hips against his. Q wasn't spared a second to protest before their lips met. Not that he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well...It looks like these boys may have reconciled. I wonder where the next chapter will go? ;)
> 
> As always, I appreciate each and every kudos and comment that you all have left for me. Anytime I get a notification my heart does a little happy dance. You guys are amazing. <3
> 
> Oh yeah, I tumble and would love to meet any of you who tumble too : lille082(dot)tumblr(dot)com


	10. Chapter 10

James licked hungrily into Q's mouth as the man's fingers threaded through the short stands of hair at his nape. A delighted whimper met his ministrations and he smiled as he dropped the crutch to grip Q's narrow hips, backing him against the workbench. The long-fingered hand in his hair slipped down to grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling Bond closer to him.

He broke the kiss to nip along Q's jaw, the rough stubble he found there causing the most delicate of burns across his lips. Q fought to cut off a moan as James caught his ear between his teeth.

"Bo--nngguh--Bond!" Despite the breathiness, his tone was sharp enough for James to release his earlobe, though his hands continued to undo the man's tie. 

"Yes?" The tip of Bond's tongue glanced over the shell of Q's ear, and Q's hands tightened on his shirt. Bond wasn't sure if he was going to pull him closer or push him away.

Q sighed and dropped his forehead to Bond's shoulder. "We can't."

Bond pulled back, forcing Q to look at him as he tipped his chin up with his finger. "What?"

Q's hands unfurled from fists to push against James's broad chest.

"We can't," his voice was firm. "I'm your—a section head and it wouldn't be proper."

The arch of Bond's eyebrow should have been enough to get his point across, but Q's lips pursed as he shook his head. Bond huffed, his hands dropping to the workbench behind Q, bracketing him. "Quin-"

"You can't-"

"Fuck's sake, Q. I don't care about proper, and I don't think you do either. I want you and," James pulled the lithe body against his, slipping his leg between Q's slim thighs, feeling his hard length press against his hip, "it seems the feeling is mutual."

Q groaned, rutting against the firm thigh between his legs as he pulled James into a heated kiss. Bond smiled, his hands roaming across Q's hips before drifting to cup the man's plush arse. His grip firmed, and he gently pulled Q towards him, riding his leg. Q keened as James began to rock his hips in a steady rhythm, finding temporary relief each time his cock grazed Q's thigh or the jut of a hipbone.

Q's long fingers fell to the hem of Bond's shirt and he stripped him of it before throwing it to the side. Breaking the kiss, Q mouthed across the stubble on Bond’s jaw and down to nip at the base of his neck. Bond's fingers slid into the man's dark hair and pulled just hard enough to make Q's breath hitch.

As he pulled Q's head back to tongue the silky skin underneath his jaw, Q's hands began to made quick work of the drawstring on his track bottoms. Bond groaned as a warm hand worked its way beneath the waistband and he quickly brought their mouths together once more.

Their kisses were heated, needy, desperate. James managed to undo Q’s belt and pull it through half of his belt loops before deciding unbuttoning his trousers was a much better use of his time.

James was tugging the striped sweater vest up over Q’s head just as the office door swung open without preamble, causing them both to freeze.

“Well, that arse escaped from medical aga-“ Eve’s eyes widened comically as she took in the sight before her before hastily shutting the door behind her. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, caught between the urge to both yell and laugh at them. “But it looks like you knew that.”

Q huffed and quickly pulled his sweater vest back down before slipping out from Bond’s arms, turning away from both of them. Bond took a cautious step forward so he could properly prop himself up against the workstation, frowning at Eve.

“That better be a reference to how perfectly shaped it is.”

Eve and Q shared a look as Q attempted to tuck his shirt back in to his trousers. She moved further into the office, resolutely keeping her eyes above waist level. Bond didn't particularly mind but, by the flush in Q's cheeks, he did. Q scooped Bond's shirt off the floor from where it had landed along with his crutch and handed them back to him. 

Silence clung thick between the three of them as Bond and Q put themselves right while Eve surveyed them. 

Q slipped his glasses off his thin face, a pout on his lips as he observed how smudged they were. He attempted to clean them with the hem of his sweater, but didn't make much of an improvement. 

Eve observed the gesture with a raised eyebrow and cleared her throat. "So, this is happening? Again?"

Q cleared his throat as he wiped the smudged lenses even harder but didn't say anything. Bond smirked at Eve but she shook her head at him. 

"I don't have to tell you two what a terrible idea this is, right?"

"Pretty sure you already have," Bond's voice was smug. 

Q moved to sit at his desk with a sigh, crossing his legs as he did. "Was there something you needed, Ms. Moneypenny?"

Eve smiled and dropped the paper bag she was holding onto the desk in front of him. "Figured you needed to eat something, but I guess Bond was already on it..." she trailed off with a devilish grin.

James laughed loudly but Q groaned and covered his face with his hands.

"I'll leave you lovers be, I suppose...but you really-" The glare she caught over the rim of Q's glasses stopped her short, but she stared back significantly. "Well, we'll chat later."

The silence hung between Q and Bond after the door swung shut behind her.

"Ugh, feels like being caught by your mum..." Q eventually sighed. 

James snorted and moved to sit on Q's desk, facing him. 

Q frowned but reached inside the white paper bag to pull out two takeaway cartons of curry. Bond could see the tension leech out of his shoulders as he opened one of the cartons, inhaling with content.

Bond leaned in, sneaking a piece of chicken out of the container with his fingers. He made a show of licking the curry off of them, and was pleased to see Q subconsciously lick his lips in response. He reached again for the container but Q slapped his fingers away, earning himself a smirk while James shifted back further on the desk, propping his crutch against the side.

Q dug into the bag and pulled out plastic cutlery and held a fork out to James. They attacked the curry in silence, both considering what would come next.

"Bond, I think we--"

The phone rang shrilly on Q's desk. James didn't move, making Q reach across his lap in order to pick it up. His pursed lips were probably meant to convey his annoyance, but it just made Bond want to nibble on them. 

Q answered with a confirmation of his call sign, and his eyes flashed up to glance at Bond after a second.

"Yes, ma'am. He dropped off the last of his kit, but I think he left--" Q glared at Bond who smiled innocently back at him. "Of course, you'll be the first to know."

He dropped the phone with a sigh. "I just lied to M on your account, so you'd better be fucking happy."

Bond raised an eyebrow. "I didn't ask you to."

"What was I supposed to say? 'Yes, ma'am, he's currently moping atop my desk because Moneypenny walked in on us about to fuck and ruined the mood.'"

"Oh, is that what we were about to do?" Bond smirked and leaned further into Q's space.

Q huffed even as his cheeks darkened, and he stood abruptly to clear the detritus of their impromptu lunch but continued talking as though Bond hadn't said anything. "Now I'll have to wipe the security cameras, too."

He binned the empty curry container and placed the second in a mini-fridge wedged between racks of equipment. 

Bond's eyes lingered over the sight of Q's trousers stretched tight across his arse. "Well, if you have to wipe them anyway, we may as well make the most of it, right?"

Q snorted and straightened back up. Turning, he studied Bond's face as he walked slowly towards him, slotting himself between his legs. James rested his hands on Q's hips as he slipped his arms around his neck.

"She's right, you know?" Q sighed. 

"Bugger being right."

Q smiled at him as a giggle escaped his lips. His eyes roamed James's face as his expression grew serious. 

He leaned down to kiss him, the touch of their lips a mere whisper against each other.

Q broke away from James slowly, and leveled a look at him. "I should be done around 1900, if everything goes according to plan."

"Oh?" James kept his tone casual, slipping one hand around to Q's lower back.

Q nodded seriously. "I expect you to finish what you started, 007."

James raised an eyebrow as his hands slipped down to cup Q's arse. "Of course. Is there a preferred resolution to this mission, sir?"

Q smirked and nodded, his hands falling to James's thighs, gently creeping towards his body. "I should think there will be a few 'resolutions' before the night is through, don't you?"

"I should think so, Quartermaster," James chuckled, pushing up to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> I'm on tumblr, if you'd like some extra 00Q (amongst other stuff) on your dash. 
> 
> lille082 . tumblr . com


	11. Chapter 11

Q sighed, relinquishing the comms to R as he rubbed his face from underneath his glasses.  In between orders for an evac unit, she reassured him that the department would be fine for a few days without him, the order to take a couple of days evident in what she didn’t say.  Q nodded vaguely as he retreated into his office, the clock above the door deciding for him if he would be taking the tube or the car service home.  He went through the motions of calling for a car and packing up his workstation. 

He perfunctorily checked for his ID badge and keys before locking the office door behind him.  In the lift, he fumbled idly for his personal mobile and unlocked the screen, frowning at the two text messages that appeared.  

19.05 - chinese?  
22.34 - some other time then 

Q hoisted his bag back up onto his shoulder as he exited the lift, thumb hovering over the phone icon next to Bond’s name.  He waited until he was safely in the back of a town car to call, but the generic greeting asked him to leave a message. 

“Hi, it’s me.  Er—Q.  Shit.  Sorry, I was pulled into an extrac-,” he cut himself off, suddenly hyperaware of how insecure Bond’s personal mobile could be. “—meeting.  Um..anyway, it’s late.  I’m heading home, but…if it works out, I’m supposed to have the next few days off, so…yeah.  I’ll try you again tomorrow.” 

He ended the call, feeling a bit ridiculous in the process and he frowned at the display as though it was his mobile’s fault that James Bond had the ability to make his brain short-circuit. 

Q thumbed idly through his phone in order to avoid conversation with the driver, his knee bouncing up and down with nervous tension.  Was he really expecting to get a text back?  Or even a phone call?  He had to bite his lips together in order to stop the tide of laughter that suddenly rose. 

Here he was, Quartermaster of bloody MI6, worried that one of the trained assassins in his charge wouldn’t call him back for a dinner date.  It was absurd and he knew it.  Still, it wasn’t like he had much of any experience with…whatever this was.  He'd been far too busy working his way up the ranks, first at B Station and then at Headquarters, to focus on anything but his work.  Even still, he wasn’t naive; he knew that there was something different in how he felt about Bond (outside of him being the best shag of his life, of course).

The driver cleared his throat and Q started, realizing that the car had stopped a while ago, apparently outside his flat.  He mumbled his thanks to the driver while exiting the vehicle and fought a yawn as he trudged up the steps to his stoop and unlocked the door.  Stepping inside, he shut the door behind him before turning to disarm his security system—which was silent.

Panic and adrenaline swept through Q’s body even as he quietly toed off his loafers.  He slipped his hand into his bag, fingers curling around the grip of his personalized Beretta before letting the bag slip from his shoulder, silently setting it on the floor.  A soft glow lit his short trek up the stairs, the light coming from a table lamp he knew had not been on when he had left the day before. 

At the top of the stairs, he inched forward on the balls of his feet, hand steady on the gun in front of him as the other smoothed over the wall to the light switch.  He took a deep breath and flipped the light on. 

Two pairs of yellow eyes blinked up at him blearily from their resting place on Bond’s chest.  Blue eyes met his incredulous stare, corners crinkling as they took in his gun.  “Good evening.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bond.  I almost shot you!” Q yelled, feeling a sick satisfaction as Bond winced when Alan bared his claws before scrambling away, startled. 

Nodding at the gun as Q lowered it, Bond asked with a wry grin, “Are you even qualified to shoot that thing?” 

Q glared and headed into the kitchen, dropping the gun onto the table and draping his anorak on the back of a chair.  Ignoring Bond for the moment, he picked up the water dish from it’s place next to a suspiciously full food bowl and refilled it with water from the tap.  Padding back to the sofa, he gently lifted Ada off of Bond’s stomach and hugged her to his chest. 

“How’d you bypass the alarm?” 

James sat up from his prone position and shrugged.  “You stood me up.” 

“I asked _how_ , not why,” Q rolled his eyes and walked away, depositing Ada by her food bowl and crouching down to scratch her chin.  “And besides, I didn’t stand you up.  I got stuck running comms for 002.” 

He brushed his fringe off his forehead as he straightened up, his breath hitching when he turned back to find Bond standing in front of him. 

“I’m going to put a fucking bell on you,” Q breathed as James reached for his hips. 

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you when you’re stroppy.” James’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his fingers slipped into Q’s belt loops and he drew the younger man to him. 

Q inwardly cursed at the flush he could feel crawling up his neck.  His eyes flickered between James’s lips and his eyes, currently sparkling with mirth.  “I’m not stroppy,” he murmured petulantly as James took another step forward, backing Q against the counter. 

Bond chuckled lowly and ducked his head, running his teeth over the scruff along Q’s jaw, causing a delicious burn in his wake.  Q’s eyes shut slowly as Bond kissed down the column of his throat before closing his teeth over the corded muscle between neck and shoulder.  Q whimpered and licked his lips, the tease of a burn felt beneath the layers of his shirt and jumper causing a sudden rush of blood southwards and, god help him, he swooned slightly. 

Pulling back, James tightened his grip on too-sharp hipbones before bringing their mouths together in a clash of tongue and teeth.  He growled as Q caught his lower lip between his teeth and sucked while a long-fingered hand slipped into his hair and pulled on the short strands. 

James rolled his hips against Q’s and he gasped, relinquishing his grip on Bond’s hair in favor of sliding his hand down the back of his joggers, cupping his arse to prolong the contact.   

“You’re eager,” Bond chuckled between searing kisses. 

“I’ve been practically half-hard since earlier.”  Q tried not to sound as exasperated as he felt but failed horribly. 

Bond hummed, the tips of his fingers dipping inside the waistband of Q’s trousers as he murmured against Q’s lips, “Even on comms with Val?” 

Q snorted and shifted back to give Bond an incredulous look.  James smirked and leaned forward to recapture his lips, fingers working quickly to pull Q’s shirt out of his trousers. 

“If I didn’t know any better,” Q managed to get out between kisses, “I’d think you were jealous.”  He slid his unoccupied hand up the back of Bond’s shirt, encountering warm, scarred skin. 

James pulled back to look Q over before saying in a low voice, “I don’t share, Q.” 

Q swallowed, trying very hard not to focus on the feeling that lodged between his ribs and instead tried to divest Bond of his shirt as quickly as possible. 

Their hands fought to free the other from their shirts as their mouths came back together in a passionate kiss.  Q’s sweater vest ended up on the kitchen table while Bond’s shirt was tossed casually to the floor with a laugh from the agent. 

“Bedroom,” Q breathed into James’s mouth as calloused fingers worked the buttons of his shirt free.  Bond nipped at his upper lip as he finally pressed his warm hands to bare skin before slipping the shirt off of his narrow shoulders. 

James maneuvered them towards the bedroom and Q remained silent when he noticed how much he leaned against him as they made their way down the hall. 

Q kicked the door open, the noise of which was enough to startle Alan out from under the bed and out of the room.  Q managed to slip both hands down the back of James’s joggers and gripped the firm flesh of his arse, nails digging in as James sucked on his earlobe. 

James growled after a moment and forcibly pushed Q onto the bed, a gale of laughter following as he bounced off the mattress. 

Bond smiled as he pushed the joggers over his hips and, knowing he had Q’s full attention, stood before him for his perusal.  Q propped himself up on his elbows and made a show of looking him over, finally tutting and sighing as he finished. 

“You little shite,” Bond tugged on the end of Q’s trousers in an attempt to divest him of his last remaining garments as quickly as possible.  Q laughed and helped shove the trousers and pants over his hips.  James flung the articles of clothing haphazardly over his shoulder before climbing onto the bed. 

Q marveled at the play of muscles beneath tanned skin, his mouth suddenly dry.  James’s smile was cocky as he crawled over Q, bracing himself on his elbows as he hovered above him. 

He dipped his head down to flick his tongue over one of Q’s nipples, then the other, skin pebbling beneath his mouth.  Q threaded his fingers through short blonde hair once more as he sighed in pleasure.  Bond captured one rosy nipple between his teeth and bit down lightly.  Q’s back arched into the feeling as James soothed the bud with the flat of his tongue. 

Bond hummed as he licked over sharp ribs, then down and around Q’s navel.  He scraped his teeth over the jut of one hipbone before teasing his tongue over Q’s swollen cock where it rested between his hip and thigh.  The lithe body beneath him shuddered helplessly as he repeated the motion. 

Q whimpered as James took him in hand and pumped once, torturously slow.  The glistening head of Q’s cock was revealed on the downstroke, swollen and red.  James took him into his mouth and their moans of appreciation combined as he swirled his tongue around the foreskin. 

James relished the slight heft of Q’s cock on his tongue, realizing that it had been far too long since he had sucked someone off.  The way he took Q down to the root, hollowing his cheeks as he surfaced for breath, would have fooled anyone though.  Q moaned as the tip of his cock hit the back of Bond’s throat and he swallowed around him.  It was only the work of a few long pulls on his cock before Q’s thighs began to shake and his fingers tightened in James’s hair.  James immediately pulled off, closing his thumb and forefinger around the base of Q’s cock tightly. 

Q gasped as his body trembled in response, eyes flying open to stare at James desperately.  He  merely peppered his inner thigh with kisses and sucked the occasional bruise into the skin, his grip firm. 

James eventually released his hold and crawled back up Q’s body, kissing along his chest as he went.  “You’re like a live wire…” he murmured against his sternum. 

Q hummed in bemusement as Bond brought their lips together once more.  James quickly straddled him and captured both of his wrists, bringing them together above his head.  Leaning down, he whispered, “…just a touch would set you off.” 

Q groaned, arching his body towards Bond as he took his earlobe between his teeth, attempting to achieve some kind of contact where his body was begging for it.  James grinned down at him, transferring both birdlike wrists into the palm of one hand and lazily trailed his other hand over sensitive flesh.  Bond continued his unhurried exploration with his mouth until Q cursed him under his breath. 

James looked up to find Q’s gaze locked on him and the sheer _need_ he saw on his face sent a rush of lust down his body.  He released the tight grip on Q’s wrists, registering somewhere in the back of his mind that Q would likely be sporting bruises before morning.  The way Q grabbed for him, connecting their mouths in a desperate kiss, told Bond that Q didn’t exactly mind. 

Q’s hands roamed across Bond’s body, trembling and seeming to map every last inch of him in his need.  He grazed his fingernails across his nape and James shivered reflexively.  Q took the opportunity to attempt to roll them, and James followed through the motion fluidly. 

He gracefully settled himself across his hips, only touching Bond’s attentive cock to ensure it was out of the way and free to rest gently against the curve of his arse.  Q skimmed his fingernails down James’s chest, grinning as gooseflesh rose in his wake and James’s nipples tightened in response.  As he leaned down to place a kiss on his chest, Bond’s cock slotted into place in between the cheeks of his arse and Q smiled wickedly up at him before slowly rocking his hips against him. 

James’s breath hitched and Q repeated the motion, grinding down a bit harder to increase the friction.  He continued rocking and before long, he felt the slick of precum where it had gathered on the head of Bond’s cock and smeared along his arse.  He moved to put a hand on himself but Bond moved faster, batting his hand away and surging up to capture Q’s lips once more. 

They separated to catch their breath before almost toppling sideways as they both tried to grab for the bottle of lube just out of reach on the bedside table, sitting innocently between an alarm clock and a box of tissues.  Heat crawled up Q’s neck and he narrowed his eyes, daring Bond to say anything.  James wisely kept quiet, instead nipping at Q’s lower lip and sucking it into his mouth as his hand closed around the bottle. 

Q registered the click of the lid snapping shut just as James relinquished his grip around Q’s back.  James tossed the bottle carelessly to the side and Q pulled back, trying to catch his breath as warm fingertips ghosted between his cheeks, questing inwards towards his hole.  His breath hitched as one slick finger breeched him, James’s gaze intent as he slowly pushed into him.  Once Q was clutching desperately around the base of his finger, James withdrew the digit at the same excruciating pace and Q nearly huffed in impatience. 

Bond smiled and added a second finger, increasing the pace up a notch as Q leaned into him.  Q placed biting kisses along his jaw, teeth grazing along stubble, and he shifted his hips back to better meet the fingers slowly fucking into him.  His teeth closed on Bond’s shoulder as he clenched around his fingers at the same time, eliciting a growl from the agent.  Q’s slender fingers closed around Bond’s prick and stroked, his grip tight, breath warm against the shell of his ear as he demanded him to fuck him. 

Suddenly, Q found himself pinned to the bed face-down, James’s hands anchored on his hips.  Q released the breath he didn’t know he had been holding with a moan, his cock growing impossibly harder as his brain caught up with the new position.  The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end as James pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, smiling. 

“I’ve been told that patience is a virtue, love.” 

Q scoffed, even as he maneuvered up to his elbows as Bond lifted himself off of him, kissing gently down his spine.  As James’s mouth neared the dimples found at the small of Q’s back, Q felt himself being spread open and he whimpered, letting his head drop forward.  Three fingers found his hole and began to scissor him open.  The brush of a finger over Q’s prostate wrangled a cry from his slim frame, and Bond smoothed a hand down his back soothingly. 

Q began thrusting back, attempting to increase the pace, the contact, _anything_ to quell the need inside of him.  James withdrew his fingers and Q whined at the loss, but quieted as he realized that James was slicking his cock, having grabbed the bottle of lube once more.

James lined his cock up with Q’s entrance, the tip gently pressing against his opening.  Q drew in a slow, deep breath and began to push back in encouragement.  When nothing happened in response he stopped, looking back over his shoulder in confusion. 

“James?” 

Bond blinked once, twice.  “Fuck, Q…You’re perfect.”  His declaration seemed to bring him back to the present and he licked his lips, pushing forward into the tight ring of muscle. 

Q’s cheeks flamed ridiculously at the compliment while he was breeched and he tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. 

James settled fully into him with a groan, his strong, solid hands holding Q’s hips tightly in place.  Q moaned as he adjusted to the size of him just as James almost completely pulled out. He pushed back in steadily, allowing Q to feel the slick slide of every inch of him. 

Bond began a brutally slow pace, his desire to thrust with abandon evident only in the marks his fingertips were pressing into Q’s skin.  Q whimpered as James angled his hips to brush his cock over his prostate with each deep stroke.  Q dropped his head to rest on one of his forearms, drawing a shuddering breath as one slow thrust dragged the head of Bond’s cock perfectly along that sweet spot inside of him. 

Q pushed futilely back, attempting to increase the pace, but strong hands stopped him, even as sweat erupted across James’s brow as he tried to restrain himself from slamming into him.  A moan of need escaped his lips, and James relinquished his grip on one of Q’s hips, petting gently up his side and down his back. 

“James,” Q pleaded breathlessly, “please…” 

“Please what, love?” James teased his fingers over Q’s hips and inward towards his cock. 

“Fuck,” Q moaned.  “I…I need to come, James.”

His voice was broken and Bond moaned at the sound of the words falling from his posh lips.

James leaned forward against Q’s back, one hand skimming over the soft skin of his shoulder and down his arm to entwine their fingers together.  He pressed open-mouthed kisses across Q’s shoulders and began to thrust tirelessly into him.

Q gasped along with the faster pace and new angle, and cried out as James’s hand encircled his cock.  James stroked steadily in time with his pistoning hips, thrusts shallow and angled directly at Q’s prostate.  Q’s cries grew increasingly louder and somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought of soundproofing his bedroom floated lazily through his consciousness as his thighs began to tremble.

“James, I—“ Q’s words of warning transformed into a keen of pleasure as he bucked into James’s hand, coating his fingers with his release.  The feeling of him clenching around James’s prick was enough to push him over the edge as well, and he came with a moan against Q’s nape.

James came down from the bright white bliss of orgasm to find himself still lazily thrusting into Q, who was bonelessly riding the waves of aftershocks beneath him.  He eventually pulled his softening cock out gently, and Q practically collapsed sideways onto the bed, limbs shaky.

James snorted and climbed over him, pausing to press a brief kiss to his forehead before rolling off the bed to head to the en suite.  Q was burying his head into a pillow as he returned and watched with half-lidded eyes as James climbed back onto the bed with a wet flannel.  A crease formed between his eyebrows as he came down from his post-orgasmic haze while James cleaned him up. 

Q settled onto his back as James left the washroom, having taken care of the flannel and splashed some water on his face, limp more pronounced after their activities.  He padded silently back to the bed, pulling the duvet swiftly out from underneath Q before slipping into bed beside him.  Rolling onto his side, he propped his head up on his hand and leaned down to capture Q’s lips. 

Q’s hands rose to hold James’s face in place as he pulled back, tenderly pressing a chaste kiss against his mouth with still-swollen lips.  He pulled back slowly, eyes searching Bond’s face, the furrow in his brow more prominent. 

“What?” He asked, Q’s hands releasing him. 

“This is a terrible idea, James.” 

James smiled and leaned down once more, kissing the furrow between his brow first, then pressing another soft kiss to his lips.  “Mmm, but those are the best kinds of ideas.” 

Q snorted, the hint of a smile coloring the corners of his mouth as his expression cleared.  “Spoken like a true double-oh.” 

James laughed and pulled Q to him, kissing along his jaw before nosing into his hair.  Q sighed, relaxing into the embrace. 

Just as James thought he had drifted off to sleep, Q twined their fingers together, resting them against his hip and breathed, “So much for my promising career in espionage…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this is it! I finally finished this fic! My sincerest apologies for how long it has taken, but that's how real life works sometimes, eh? 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! My deepest gratitude goes out to those who have followed this fic from the beginning, commenting along the way. For my reintroduction to writing fanfic again, you sure know how to make a gal feel loved. <3
> 
> And, of course, thank you, dear reader, for sticking with me through the end. It means more than you could ever know!
> 
> Feel free to reach out on tumblr--my blog is filled with 00Q nonsense (among other things) and I'd love to connect : lille082 . tumblr .com
> 
> One short note: this entire fic was not betaed or britpicked, but I have a friend who has offered their support in these areas--if you happen to come across this fic again or reread it in the future and you notice some differences, that is why. :)


End file.
